


Shades of Light

by kaylennz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 93,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylennz/pseuds/kaylennz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years after the council knighted his padawan against his wishes, Qui-Gon Jinn returns to the temple. He comes face to face with the mistakes of his past and finds possible redemption in his future.</p>
<p>Shades of Light storyline is chapters 1-16.  A series of vignettes follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most everyone has probably already read this at ff.n but I am moving most of my work here so I can have it in one place. Its posted under Shannz @ ff.n and I assure you this is me and not someone else posting my work :) If by some chance you have not read this - I do hope you enjoy. I will not be posting _Going Home_ here. As popular as that fic is...I wrote it 13 yrs ago and parts of it seriously make me cringe. I can't even read most of it now. This is by far my best Star Wars fic. 
> 
> **WARNINGS** : Spoilers for JA books 1,2 and 5,6 – barely recognizable as I've completely twisted them to my own liking. Having a general idea of some JA characters would be good, but not necessary. This is an A/U - as in alternate universe, so if you are picky about canon, this is not the place to be. For my purposes, and preference, Qui-Gon's master in this fic will be Master Yoda.
> 
> **DISCLAIMER** : All recognizable characters belong to George Lucas, Jude Watson, and Dave Wolverton.

Qui-Gon shouldered his worn travel pack as he disembarked from his early morning transport, the first rays of sunlight yet to make an appearance. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, noticing the welcoming committee waiting near the entrance to the temple. He sighed. He was not ready for this, nor did he have any interest in being ready for this anytime soon. He knew why he'd been ordered back to the temple. Sure, it was under the guise of a well-earned respite, but if that were the case his request to take that respite on Alderaan would not have been denied.

No, he knew the real reason why Master Yoda had called him back to the temple. So what if it had been eight years since he'd returned for little more than a change of clothes and a hot meal. Thankfully, HE was never in temple at the same time. Thankfully, their paths had not crossed in that entire time. The little master had tried to keep him updated on HIS progress, but he would not hear of it. Eventually the attempted progress reports had stopped, much to his relief. That was just fine with him, he preferred it that way, and would prefer it to stay that way. He sensed however, that Master Yoda had other ideas.

"Hello, Master. Mace." Qui-Gon said to the two as he approached. "And to what do I owe this honor - - to be greeted by not one, but two council members?"

"Council members, all we are to you?" Yoda asked spryly. "Your master, I still am. Good friend to you, Mace has always been"

"That remains to be seen," Qui-Gon said brusquely.

"Humph, happy to be home you are not. Too bad, that is. Missed you, we have," Yoda said as he turned to lead them into the temple.

"It's been a long time,Qui," Mace said to Qui-Gon as he took the other man's hand in his, grasping his forearm with his free hand. "It's good to have you back." Qui-Gon returned the gesture out of politeness, nothing more. At one time he had considered this man his best friend, until he, along with the rest of the council, had betrayed him - - his own former master the ringleader in that betrayal. He did not forget such things, nor would he pretend that time and distance had softened that betrayal.

"Yes, well. I'm not exactly back of my own accord, now, am I?" Qui-Gon said coolly as they entered the temple corridors and headed towards the lifts. "I'll not play these games. I know what this is about, and I want no part of it. We've all made our positions clear, I stand by mine. Unless you've changed yours, then there's really nothing left to discuss."

"Stubborn, you have always been. Blinds you, it does. See nothing beyond it, you can," Yoda said sadly, and slightly exasperated. "Stand by our original decision we do, discuss it further we will not. Called home you have been, for too long you have been gone. Earned this respite you have. Need this respite, you do. Running across the galaxy, for far too long you have been. Enjoy it or not, up to you it is."

Qui-Gon took offense at the insinuation that he had been running from anything, least of all his former padawan, and was just about to say so when someone came flying around the corner and crashed directly into him. He barely lost his momentum, but the object that struck him had fared much worse. He looked to the young man sprawled on the floor before him, his irritation heavy - - and dissipating completely when he looked into wide changeable eyes. Possibly the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, ranging in color from blue to green to gray all in a matter of seconds. But the beauty of those eyes in no way compared to the beauty of the force aura that surrounded the young man. Qui-Gon had always been strong in the living force, and never in his lifetime had he ever seen such a pure and untainted force signature. The boy practically glowed.

He was oblivious to the embarrassed and mumbled apologies the boy was offering as he helped him to his feet. "In a hurry, young one?" Qui-Gon asked, amused and slightly disconcerted with the change in his disposition. He did not notice that Mace was suddenly looking quite uncomfortable, or that Yoda was looking quite pleased.

A slight blush colored the young face as he spoke. "Yes, master. Forgive, me. I am running a bit late and was not paying attention" Qui-Gon noted that the young man was still quite charmingly embarrassed.

"Think nothing of it, padawan . . .?" Qui-Gon asked, noticing the boy's braid.

"Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi." Obi-Wan said with a small smile, apparently relieved that he was not going to be taken to task on his run in with the master.

"Morning person, our Obi-Wan is not. Forgive him, you must," Yoda said to Qui-Gon, though he favored Obi-Wan with a smile. "Never known to rise this early are you. Special, this day is?"

"Yes, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said with a radiant smile. "Master thinks I am ready to begin instruction in the Elements kata."

"Impressive," Qui-Gon said genuinely. The boy didn't look a day over his 17th cycle. "A very difficult kata. One that is usually reserved for senior padawan's."

"Mmmmm. Very impressive, our Obi-Wan is," Yoda said unabashedly, delighting in the new flush of color in the young man's face. "And very smart, his master is. Make an earlier riser of you yet he will, young one."

"Yes, well. Your master is undoubtedly waiting for you Obi-Wan." Mace tried to sound casual, and wasn't very convincing. Qui-Gon finally noticed that Mace seemed a bit unnerved. "You mustn't keep him waiting."

"Of course, I'm sorry to have delayed you, masters." Obi-Wan bowed apologetically, taking Mace's hint, and was about to depart when he heard his master's voice further down the corridor.

"What's this I see? It can't be my padawan. My padawan has never voluntarily risen before first light." Obi-Wan turned towards his master's voice, as did Master Yoda. Mace and Qui-Gon were obscured from site, hidden by the corner that Obi-Wan had so recently rounded.

Mace closed his eyes in dread as Qui-Gon froze. Master Yoda was serene as always, though his ears perked a bit. Obi-Wan was unaware, smiling broadly at his master's approach.

"Never have you given me such incentive, my master," Obi-Wan teased, unaware of the tension mounting behind him. Any response his master may have made was cut short as he rounded the corner and came face to face with Mace and Qui-Gon. Shock reverberated throughout the force, and on the faces of two of the Jedi. Obi-Wan was confused by the wild fluctuation of emotions he sensed from his master, before shields were quickly and thoroughly slammed into place.

The tableau held for seconds only, Qui-Gon breaking the silence. His voice was cold, bordering on contempt as he acknowledged the man in full Jedi attire before him. "Xanatos."

"That's MASTER Chiyari to you, Jinn." Xanatos spoke coldly as well. Obi -Wan's eyes widened in shock and understanding, at the mention of the other master's name.

He was caught off guard when Qui-Gon pierced him with a glacial gaze from previously warm eyes. "Yes, so it appears." Obi-Wan was taken aback by the loathing he heard in the other man's tone. "This was all very well arranged," Qui-Gon said disdainfully, looking at those around him before letting his eyes once again settle on Obi-Wan.

"You played your part quite well young one." Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, not knowing what to say.

"You," Xanatos said as he stepped in front of Obi-Wan, his voice low, and clearly challenging, "will not speak to my padawan in that tone. Nor will you accuse him of things that he had no knowledge of."

An uncomfortable silence stretched as the two men stood staring at each other. Finally, Xanatos spoke again. His ice blue gaze never leaving Qui- Gon's, though his voice softened noticeably.

"Obi-Wan, go on ahead to the salle. I'll be there directly."

A brief hesitation. "Master?" The uncertainty about leaving his master was evident.

Xanatos turned to him then, reassuring. "It's alright. I'll be right behind you."

Obi-Wan looked from his master to Qui-Gon and back again. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he would do as his master requested. Xanatos watched him as he moved on and reluctantly passed out of site, before turning his attention back to Qui-Gon.

"Your problem is with me, old man." His jaw clenching as he spoke. " Don't you ever speak to him like that again. As for who is responsible for this little set up - - I would think that would be fairly obvious." He glared at Yoda.

"Bound your paths were, to someday cross." Yoda said unperturbed.

"Fate had nothing to do with this little meeting," Xanatos said, letting some of his anger show, now that his padawan was no longer present. He looked to Qui-Gon who was still looking at him with something akin to disgust. "I want nothing to do with him." He said to Yoda, though he was still looking at Qui-Gon.

"The feeling is mutual," was Qui-Gon's icy response.

"That settles it then," Xanatos said resolutely, looking pleased and obviously preparing to leave. He took a step closer to Qui-Gon, unable to resist a final comment. "Stay out of my way."

He stalked off in the same direction his apprentice had gone, not looking back. Qui-Gon was silent for a moment before returning his attention to the two council members.

"It wasn't enough that you knight that abomination? How do you ever justify allowing him a padawan? Are you blind to the darkness he still carries?"

"Mellowed you, your time away has not," Yoda said sadly. "Darkness, it is not! If not so blinded by your stubbornness, you were, see it you would."

"I saw all I needed to see on Telos eight years ago," Qui-Gon said, fed up with the discussion. He turned to leave when Mace grabbed his arm.

"No, you didn't." Mace paused, and Qui-Gon saw a brief struggle on his old friends face. "You have no idea what that boy went through after you left him there." There seemed to be more the councilor wanted to say, but in the end he only said, "He passed his trials, Qui-Gon."

"How can you say that? He turned on me, Mace! He drew his saber against me. I saw the darkness within him. Force, I fought it." Qui-Gon was silent after that proclamation, reliving the memories from that fateful day. When he spoke again, his voice was but a whisper. "All those years. How could I not have seen it within him?"

"Darkness within, we all have. Stronger his was, than most. Sensed a struggle within him I did. Feared he would not return to us." Yoda said gravely. "Wrong, I was. So wrong. Thankful I am, that wrong I was. Happen often, that does not."

"It was a close call, no doubt. But when it mattered the most, he turned to the light. The young man that made his way back to the temple to throw himself on the mercy of the council was not the same arrogant young man that you knew. He deserves his place in the

order. He is a good knight, and a good friend" Mace finished, noticing the narrow look Qui-Gon gave him at his last words.

Qui-Gon was silent, considering all that had been said. He remained unconvinced. "You didn't see the look in his eyes when we fought." Qui-Gon said determinedly, almost to himself. " There is still darkness within him. I am sure of it." He looked to Mace, and then Yoda, choosing to use his former master's syntax to get his point across.

"Prove it, I will."

With a swirl of his cloak, Qui-Gon departed, leaving Master Yoda to sadly watch the retreating form.

"I fear we may have made things worse," Said Mace.

"Too soon it is, to tell," Yoda said sorrowfully. "More time, I wish they had."

XIXI

 

Xanatos slowed his steps the closer he got to the salle, stopping completely just outside the training room where his apprentice awaited. The run-in with

his former master had caught him completely off guard. He leaned forward, bracing himself with one arm as he bowed his head. Closing his eyes he struggled to find his center and calm his racing heart. He had known this day would come - - eventually. Knowing that had done little in the way of preparing him, however.

Random, chaotic thoughts of their last encounter immediately flashed through his mind. Qui-Gon, pulling his saber from his father's chest as the man crumpled lifelessly to the ground. The look of surprise and betrayal on his master's face as his own apprentice lashed out at him. His violet blade violently clashing with the emerald green of his master's. And of course, there was what happened after. . . . .

Shaking his head, in a vain effort to disperse the memories, Xanatos once again rose to his full height. Gentle waves of lustrous ebony loosely framed the strong, yet handsome face, the strands slipping free of the leather tie holding the shoulder length hair at bay. A fleeting look of vulnerability was the only evidence of the rising conflict within, making him appear much younger than his thirty-three years. Sensing the agitated presence of his apprentice on the other side of the door, he took a deep breath before entering the salle.

He entered casually, hoping to avoid any talk of the confrontation in the corridor and most especially Qui-Gon Jinn. The concerned look on his padawan's face told him that would not be happening.

"Master? Is everything alright?" Obi-Wan asked, his concern evident. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, padawan." His tone was steady, almost neutral. It would have convinced anyone. Obi-Wan, however, was not just anyone. His padawan knew him very well, and gave him a doubtful look.

He sighed. He'd never been able to keep anything from the boy, but he needed time to come to terms with his feelings before he could discuss them with anyone.

"Later. Okay." A firm but soft answer, promising that they would speak of it - - when he was ready.

Obi-Wan conceded with a nod, not pushing. If his master said they would speak of it later - - they would. Still, he was unsettled from the brief encounter with Master Jinn, surely his master must be as well. "We don't have to do this today, we could . . ." Obi-Wan started.

"Nonsense. You've been waiting all week for this."

Yes, he had. And he really wanted to continue, but not at his master's expense.

"Maybe we should meditate first?" he asked carefully, not wanting to presume that his master might need to focus himself for the upcoming kata.

Xanatos gave him a wry smile. Sometimes the kid was just too smart for his own good. "Not a bad idea." He said, deciding not to downplay the chaotic flux of emotions that Jinn had aroused. Master and apprentice settled to their knees on the padded floor, facing each other, the master giving the apprentice a quick wink before closing his eyes.

Immersed in his thoughts, Xanatos tried to calm the swirling sea of images and memories he had long ago buried. The serenity that meditation so often provided him lingered just out of his reach, his past taunting him in vivid detail like some gruesome holovid that he couldn't turn off.

It had been a long time since he'd had such trouble focusing. The run-in with his former master had affected him more than he wanted to admit - - even to himself. He tried again, this time almost succeeding, when an image of Qui-Gon rose unbidden in his mind. He was not used to seeing his master look at him with such loathing, such disgust. He hadn't examined his feelings then, in the corridor, but now he recognized the hurt easily. It cut him more deeply than he would have ever thought possible.

He quickly pushed the image away, angry with himself for letting Qui-Gon have any effect on him at all. He was about to try again when he felt a hand settle on his thigh. He opened his eyes only to find himself lost in the jeweled tone depths of his padawan's. That worried look was back, but to the boy's credit he said nothing. Xanatos sighed, his frustration mounting. He would not let that man get to him. Qui-Gon Jinn was nothing to him. He was about to rise, to sith with the meditation, when Obi-Wan spoke.

"I . . . could guide you." Softly spoken, not hesitantly, but with a definite air of the insecurity the boy had worked so hard to overcome.

He smiled reassuringly at the uncertain look on Obi-Wan's face. His padawan had come a long way from the shy, insecure little initiate he had stumbled across eight years ago. Yet every once in a while that uncertain little boy would peek out at him from beneath those chameleon eyes.

"I would appreciate that, padawan," he said solemnly.

They closed their eyes together, both reaching for the training bond that was so familiar and comforting. Steadfastly ignoring the torrent of memories and emotions that wanted to overwhelm him, Xanatos focused on his padawan. Obi- Wan. So full of light. So pure. So beautiful. He'd follow that bright presence anywhere. Trustingly, he let the boy lead him deeper and deeper, letting the chaotic thoughts and images fall away.

After a time he could manage on his own, but he found he quite enjoyed the soothing presence of his apprentice. They had not shared their meditations this way since their earliest days together. Memories of himself guiding a young Obi-Wan warmed him, and he let his reminiscence infuse the bond, eliciting an amused yet distracted acknowledgement from his padawan. Obi- Wan was very focused, taking the task at hand quite seriously.

Deciding he should do the same, the master once again focused on the bright presence before him. The boy had no idea what a beacon of light he was, how brightly he shined within the force. No idea how that light had drawn him like a moth to a flame.

Obi-Wan had been his saving grace, piercing the darkness that had once sought to consume him. Had he ever known what true love, devotion, or pride in something other than oneself was before his padawan came into his life? He thought not, but that mattered little. He knew now. Basking in that glorious light - - he let everything else go. All that mattered was right here with him. With Obi-Wan at his side he could face anything. Even Qui-Gon Jinn.


	2. Chapter 2

Qui-Gon Jinn stepped out onto his balcony just as the first stars of night began to twinkle. The barest twitch of his finger activated the privacy shield, effectively blocking out the sounds of the evening traffic. Tea in hand, he seated himself to silently watch the hustle and bustle of Coruscant's nightlife. He had been gone so long.

Too long, perhaps.

He felt strangely disconnected, removed from the living force that was his constant companion. It was being here he supposed. Coruscant had always made him feel that way on some level. Other than the various species that inhabited the sprawling city that stretched before him, there was really nothing to connect to. There were pockets of the life force he sought, such as the hundreds of gardens throughout the temple, but he doubted they would give him any solace this night. Staring out into the metropolis before him, it was easy to recall why he never felt the need to return here. There was no other reason of course. His own thoughts betrayed him as they turned to the encounter with his former padawan earlier that morning. Xanatos. Had he said the name aloud it would have been spat or spoken as a curse. To himself, it merely sounded . . . . . lost. So like they boy he had once known. Of course, he had never really known that boy had he? The person he knew, or thought he knew, had never really existed.

Qui-Gon refused to access the memories of their years together. It was still too painful; the betrayal as fresh as it was the day the boy had drawn his saber against him. Though, he had to admit that the Jedi he faced today was no boy. There had been no trace of the roguish charm that had enchanted so many, himself included. Xanatos had looked every inch the proper Jedi - -the kind of Jedi Qui-Gon had always envisioned he could be. The kind of Jedi that would make any master proud, had it all not been just some cruel illusion.

Still, there had been something different. A softness in those sapphire eyes, in that silken voice as his former apprentice had addressed his own padawan. No. Surely his memory was playing tricks on him. Never in their years together had he ever heard such an affectionate inflection in that young voice - - ever. Not even towards himself, which was surprising considering that despite all that had happened there had once been a time when Xanatos had loved him as a father. Or had that been a lie as well?

No.

He had to hold on to the belief that there had been some truths between them, that it had not all been an illusion. For his own peace of mind, for his sanity, he had to believe that. And Force help him, there had been a time when he had loved the boy like no other. A momentary stab of anguished pain stole through his defenses before he could block it. He had become quite good at blocking his emotions where Xanatos was concerned. To release them into the force would require examining them and coming to terms with them, something he was still not ready to do.

No, he would not be fooled again. He had seen the real Xanatos. He had been blind to the darkness lurking within that beautiful youthful exterior once. He could see it easily now, but that is always the way with hindsight. Xanatos had worn pride and arrogance like a badge and thought nothing of it. Yet what bothered Qui-Gon, were he to actually admit it, was that HE had thought nothing of it either. His padawan had been bright, beautiful, graceful, and excelled at everything - - he had a right to be vain, to be prideful. He was the padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, and Force help him again, he had been just as prideful where his Xani had been concerned.

Unlike most children in the temple, Xanatos had been aware of his parentage and his birthright as the prince of Telos. Xan's father, Crion had stipulated that he be allowed regular contact and visitation with his only son. This was not something that was normally done, but the man's considerable wealth and favorable contacts within the senate had gotten him what he wanted. Upon meeting the man Qui-Gon doubted there was little that Crion Chiyari wanted that he did not get.

Xani was in his 11th cycle when Qui-Gon took note of him, and had already been tagged by his peers as the Jedi Prince. It was spoken affectionately by those within the young mans circle of friends, and not so affectionately by those who were not. Though the larger group by far was those that befriended the audacious raven-haired boy. Qui-Gon had been drawn to him immediately. After nearly 5 years of knighthood, and some gentle urging from his master, Qui-Gon had decided he was ready for the responsibility of a padawan.

Qui-Gon set his tea aside. It was cold now. How he wished he could take back that one action that had set him on the path he now walked. He should never have taken the boy as an apprentice. Did he not see ho the boy had looked at him, to gauge his worthiness as a master? Never mind that the honor should have been the boys, not the other way around. Still, there was a small part of him, the part he was not listening to, that had found the audacity in the boy to be endearing.

Out of habit, Qui-Gon picked up his tea again. He blanched slightly as the tepid fluid flooded his mouth. Annoyed that he had forgotten the tea had gone cold he set it back down roughly. He had not wanted to go here, how had he let his thoughts wonder so? He knew better than to turn away, they would only become more insistent if he did. Still he could not bear to remember what once was, so instead he would remember how it all ended.

_"Ready you think he is?" Yoda said as he favored Qui-Gon with an indecipherable look. "So sure are you?"_

_"He is ready, master." Qui-Gon said, his pride evident. "There is little more he can learn from me."_

_Humph. Not so sure of that I am." Yoda said. "Inform the council of your request I will."_

_Thinking the matter settled, and their meal together complete, Qui-Gon rose to leave. He had turned away when the little master spoke again._

_"Received request for assistance from Telos, we have."_

_Qui-Gon froze, not knowing why he suddenly dreaded hearing the rest. When he made no move to leave or to speak Yoda continued._

_"Request is from the senate, not the king. No longer relying on his advisors is Crion. Rules as a dictator he does." Yoda paused, allowing what he was saying to sink in. "Resistance is forming."_

_Qui-Gon remained silent. Crion had always been a greedy man, seeking out whatever ventures would profit not only his planet, but himself as well. He had never personally cared for the man, but the ironic part was, greedy and unscrupulous as Crion was - - he truly did care for his only son._

_Xan's visits to Telos had been few these last years, due to his status as a senior padawan. He was working more as a partner with his master rather than a subordinate. Their formidable skills together as negotiators kept them in high demand, and at the top of the mission roster._

_During their last couple of visits, as Qui-Gon usually accompanied Xan to Telos, Qui-Gon had sensed much regret from Crion. The man longed to have his son at his side as his heir, his legacy. If Xanatos had sensed this as well, he had not mentioned so to his master. It took only seconds for these thoughts to process and Qui-Gon prepared for what Yoda was to say next._

_"Hired an army he has." Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his thoughts echoing Yoda's next words. "Imminent, war is."_

_Qui-Gon still stood facing away from the little master, his voice tight and his posture stiff as he asked, "When do we leave?"_

_"Dusk, your transport leaves." There was a sadness in that ancient voice, one that Qui-Gon did not want to see reflected on the master's face. He did not turn, only walked away. He did not acknowledge Yoda's final words to him, "May the force be with you."_

_The voyage to Telos was strained. Qui-Gon did his best to prepare Xani for what lay ahead, but already there was a tension growing between them. He sensed conflict within the boy, but that was to be expected given the circumstances. Qui-Gon had no doubt that Xan's duty as a jedi would far outweigh any loyalty he felt to Crion. It would be difficult since there was a caring relationship between the two, but ultimately it came down to doing what was right for the people of Telos. The mission would supersede any loyalty to king or Jedi, or so he thought._

_The landing went without incident, Crion consenting to mediation once he'd learned of his son's involvement. What struck Qui-Gon upon landing at the king's private platform was the lingering darkness that seemed to permeate the atmosphere. Such darkness is not uncommon to a world, any world that is on the brink of war. Yet there was something elusive, evil perhaps in the darkness he was sensing. War was many things, but in and of itself, war was not evil. The same could not be said for those who would willingly orchestrate such a war for personal gain._

_The years had not been kind to Crion. He was wild eyed and disheveled as he met the Jedi at the platform, looking like a madman. His appearance was shocking to both master and apprentice. The longing that Qui-Gon had sensed in the man, the longing to have his son at his side had since turned to desperation. He immediately focused his attentions on Xanatos._

_The affection that Crion felt for his son was obvious, yet something was off, different. Never before had the man used his power and wealth in an attempt to seduce the boy. He held no such restraint now. Qui-Gon had actually stepped back, feeling a sense of pity for the man. He was shocked when Xanatos actually began to buy into some of it. Not the wealth of course, the boy had always known he had but to ask and he would receive whatever his heart desired. Perhaps that is why he'd never felt the need to ask._

_The power that such wealth could wield was a different story, as was Crion's tale of how his people had turned on him - - after all he'd done for them of course. Qui-Gon watched as Xan was pulled deeper and deeper into his father's confidence, losing site of the real reason they were there. It was clear that his loyalty to his father was much stronger than Qui-Gon had ever possibly considered. He had no choice but to step back, to let the boy make his own way here. He saw now, that Yoda had foreseen this, and that it was in fact a trial of a different kind for his padawan._

_Crion was still able bodied, and quite agile for a man of his age-some 20 cycles Qui-Gon's elder. It was his mind that seemed to be losing some of its ability to work properly. The man was erratic and irrational in his plans, even Xan seemed to sense this. He began to take on more and more of his father's responsibilities, which was exactly what the man had wanted. Maybe he hadn't been so crazy after all._

_Qui-Gon spent most of his time with the senate and the people of Telos. Though Xan was clearly enamored with his new position and the power it entailed, he still held on to the belief that Xanatos would hold true to his training when it counted. He was sorely disappointed when Crion showed up for the first round of negotiations instead of Xanatos. The man was belligerent and cursed both the senate and his own people for traitors. It was obvious to those present that the man was not right in the head._

_After the disastrous meeting Qui-Gon went to the palace to seek out his apprentice. This had gone on long enough. He spared a moment to curse the boy's shielding. This would not be necessary if the training bond were working properly. The boy was nowhere to be found; infact the palace was all but deserted. He was about to leave when he heard a familiar voice. Crion, looking as if he'd just finished of an entire bottle of Drim rum all by himself made his way unsteadily towards him. The man was clearly out of control._

_He spat curses at Qui-Gon and accused him of stealing his son. Qui-Gon knew better than to argue with someone in such a condition, nor did he want to listen to the man hurl obscenities at him all night, he turned to leave. This seemed to flip a switch within the madman. The 'how dare you turn your back on me' turned into a snarling rage as the man lunged for the display of ancient weaponry adorning the stone wall. The weapons may have been merely for display, but Qui-Gon soon found out that they were quite effective - - and sharp._

_The weapon of choice, a duel edged short blade sword. Qui-Gon barely had time to ignite his saber and defend himself against the wild swing of the metal blade, luckily Jedi reflexes were often quicker than thought. He was surprised at the strength and accuracy behind Crion's attack. Sparks flew as the metal sword scraped against his light saber. Their faces were mere inches apart, close enough to breath the same air. It was at that moment that Qui-Gon realized he truly was dealing with a madman. There was no sanity in that gaze, just a wild desperation and hatred - - hatred for him. If he had looked a bit longer he may have noticed the strange vacancy behind it all, but he had seen enough to know that the man meant to harm him - - more than that, the man meant to kill him._

_He fought defensively, doing his best to tire the King and keep him from possibly harming himself. The darkness Qui-Gon had sensed upon arriving was very prevalent now. It seemed to lend itself to the madness Crion was projecting - - making him stronger, faster than he would otherwise be. Qui-Gon was attacked relentlessly; he had no choice but to counter. He drove the man back using all his strength and skills in an attempt to disarm. Inwardly, he was amazed at the man's stamina. Never would he have thought the man capable of such prowess with a sword._

_It was when Qui-Gon began to take the man as a real threat and treat him accordingly that it happened. He thrust his saber forward in a classic disarming move, just as Crion faltered in his attack, stumbling forward - almost as if he'd been pushed. Time itself slowed as the emerald green saber pierced the man chest, just above his heart. He was sure the shock on Crion's face was mirrored on his own. He was unable to move, the moment seeming to stretch endlessly._

_He would never forget the sound that broke the dark spell that seemed to hold him motionless. The agonized scream of denial that tore from his padawan's throat would haunt him for years. Xanatos had found them at the exact moment that the life bled from his father's eyes, his lifeless body sliding from the saber and falling to the floor with a thud._

_Qui-Gon watched helplessly as his padawan slipped to his knees at Crion's side. He wanted to comfort the boy, but he held back, knowing that Xan's reaction would be the defining line in the young mans trials. He held fast to the belief that the boy would do HIS training credit. He said nothing, feeling no need whatsoever to justify what had just taken place. He mourned the loss of life, of any life, but this had not been his choice. He simply took for granted that his padawan knew this as well._

_He was taken by surprise for the second time as his padawan surged to his feet, igniting his saber and spinning to launch an attack at the master. It was a ferocious and meticulous attack, and no quarter was given. Qui-Gon had no time for thought in those first seconds; he simply fought for his life. As the shock began to wear off he tried talking to Xanatos, but that proved useless. The boy had latched on to the same darkness that had infected his father and was using it in an attempt to defeat and kill his own master._

_They knew each other's fighting styles quite well, though they had never faced each other with such deadly intent. The outcome, when it happened was not a surprise to either one of them. Qui-Gon was after all the best swordsman in the order, not to mention the more experienced of the two. Breathing heavily, he stood above his padawan, his saber hovering inches from the boy's neck. There was no question in his mind that if the positions had been reversed. . . . . . it didn't really matter. He couldn't do it. His heart twisted painfully, and he forever lost a small part of himself as Xanatos actually laughed at him._

_He didn't have to kill the young man before him, he was already dead. To him, the boy he had once known and loved no longer existed. He looked down into the face of a stranger and had to wonder where he had failed so miserably. The eyes looking back at him were filled with hatred and contempt, daring him to finish the job but knowing that he wouldn't - - couldn't._

_He left the boy then, lying there on the stone floor of the palace. He turned and walked away. He did not look back. He had failed._

 

He was cold now, as cold as the tea sitting forgotten beside him. It had been a long time since he had revisited that day. Still, he was not foolish enough to think that there wouldn't come a day when he would

have to face his past. He was not ready, but it appeared he had no choice. For whatever reason, the council had gone against his wishes and knighted the boy. How could they not sense the darkness within him? Then again, he himself had not sensed it until it had almost cost him his life. And now there was more to consider.

His thoughts turned to the extraordinary young man he had literally run into that morning. The boy was either quite the little con artist, or truly the purest soul he had ever encountered. Yes, he would have to keep an eye on Obi-Wan Kenobi. Either way, the boy was probably tainted, but if for some reason the innocence in those changeable eyes was for real - - he would personally see to it that Xanatos did not take the boy down with him. For one thing was certain, Qui-Gon Jinn was done running from his past. Not that he would have ever admitted to doing such a thing. The Council had been blind to the darkness within his former padawan, just as he had once been. He would have to open their eyes before another promising young student was lost.


	3. Chapter 3

Xanatos was just beginning to drift, the welcoming embrace of sleep reaching for him, albeit hours after he'd actually gone to bed, when he sensed the first stirrings of his padawan's nightmare. Instantly he was moving, tossing aside the covers and making his way to the boy's room. The nightmares were becoming more frequent. He had hoped that the addition of the early morning kata to the boy's already demanding schedule would be enough to sufficiently tire the young mind and allow for a much needed night of undisturbed rest.

Through the bond he could feel the nightmare slowly gathering strength, but it was still distant - - like an approaching storm. He still had time, but he would have to hurry. Entering Obi-Wan's room he noted the barest traces of restless movement beneath the covers as he dropped to his knees at the boys bedside. Resting his hand on his padawan's forehead he used his thumb to gently stroke the troubled brow. At his softly murmured reassurances the boy instinctively turned towards the familiar voice, stilling almost instantly.

He stayed that way for some time, his physical presence and the softness of his voice eventually soothing the tension that held the youth. Only when his padawan was completely relaxed and eased into a deep slumber did the master allow himself to withdraw slightly. Rising from his knees, he used the Force to call a chair within reach. He settled himself as comfortably as he could, knowing that there would be no sleep for him tonight. It was not uncommon for the nightmare to recur again in the same night. He had gotten here in time tonight, and he knew that it was in part due to the fact that he had not actually been sleeping when the nightmare began. He was not always so lucky.

Too many nights he had entered to find his padawan drenched in sweat and thrashing about, frantically caught in the grip of his nightmare. On those nights Obi-Wan was beyond whispered reassurances. Only the considerable strength of their bond could divert the nightmares at that point, and often that was easier said than done.

Through the bond he would sometimes get vague images of what his padawan was seeing and feeling, dark and shadowed fragments of dream images - - a murky and distorted dreamscape. Yet what disturbed him the most about what he was sensing was the deep sense of foreboding that seemed to permeate his padawan's consciousness.

Though the boy could recall very little of the nightmare upon waking - - it seemed while there, in that strange place, he knew exactly what was happening - - or what was going to happen. Slightly frustrated, Xanatos leaned back in the chair. It had been six months since the nightmares had begun and not only were they increasing in frequency, but they were getting more intense. At first he'd been able to wake Obi-Wan easily. Now, it was nearly impossible once the nightmare took hold. The last time he'd tried as a matter of fact, he'd ended up with a black eye for his efforts.

It was about this time that he realized he may not be able to handle this on his own, and much to Obi-Wan's chagrin, had scheduled an appointment with the healers. The healer on duty hadn't been much help at all and had actually given his padawan a sedative to make him sleep through the night. His jaw tightened unconsciously as memories of that night surfaced. It had been the worst episode by far. The sedative had somehow affected the bond, causing it to become muted. He could feel that the link was still there, but there was a stillness, a silence to it that he was unaccustomed to. The quicksilver presence that was his padawan was distant, unreachable. He'd been unable to offer any comfort or reassurance, and there had been no way for him to divert the nightmare.

_He had awoken to the sound of a soft, "No." slightly before dawn, having fallen asleep in the chair next to Obi-Wan's bed, hoping at the very least that his physical presence would give his padawan some comfort. Again he heard, "No."The voice small and vulnerable. Xanatos sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Obi-Wan's breathing was ragged, his skin glistening with perspiration, the blankets twisted around his bare torso. Moonlight reflected the torment on the young face as he thrashed his head from side to side. "No.No. No. No." The no's were becoming more insistent, but still held an edge of denial? Of fear?_

_He had reached for the boy then, offering his touch, as he often did to soothe the nightmares. This time however, perhaps due to the silence of the bond, his touch did anything but comfort. Xanatos managed to catch the boy's arm before the fist could connect with his face, but just barely. He reached to secure the other arm as Obi-Wan began to fight him in earnest._

_Caught in the nightmare's grasp, his adrenaline surging, Obi-Wan fought him blindly, but hard. When the boy delivered a vicious kick to his ribs, Xanatos tried using brute strength to pin him to the bed, not yet willing to use the Force to subdue him. Obi-Wan retaliated by using the bed as leverage, surging upwards and tumbling them both to the floor. Xanatos raised his head just in time for Obi-Wan's elbow to connect with his jaw, causing him to bite his tongue. Grabbing the offending appendage, he flipped Obi-Wan over, on to his stomach._

_Covering the boy with his larger frame, Xanatos grabbed his wrists, pinning the flailing arms to the floor. Not wanting to lose any of this leverage by moving,he'd had no choice but to use the Force to secure the boy's legs. His padawan continued to struggle in vain for endless moments, until the adrenaline eventually bled from his body. Obi-Wan was still breathing heavily, but was slowly beginning to relax into a more natural slumber. The master's heart clenched slightly as a final "No" was uttered. The voice was so small, so frightened, so unlike his padawan. He let his head fall forward until it rested on his padawan's, his lips grazing the boy's ear as he whispered, "Shhhhhh. I am here. You are safe." As he spoke, the taut body beneath him continued to relax. "Sleep." Once his own heart had stopped racing, Xanatos slowly released his hold on Obi-Wan.Sitting up, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, allowing his worry and exasperation to show. He was at a loss as to what to do._

_Come to me, if anything, ever, you shall need._

_Yoda's words from his knighting ceremony echoed through the force. He had never taken the tiny master up on his offer, perhaps some twisted sense of lingering pride keeping him from doing so. Not that the little master hadn't been involved in his life since he'd become knighted, but he had never personally asked Yoda for anything. He looked to his padawan, still sprawled face down on the floor. He needed help.He could not handle this on his own._

_Gathering Obi-Wan close, he pulled the boy's back to his chest, leaning back against the wall. Sleeping soundly now, his padawan nestled into that warmth, burying his face in the crook of his master's neck. Xanatos could feel the soft exhalation of each breath as the boy's breathing returned to normal. He would never let his pride come before his padawan. Obi-Wan was the first and only person he had ever put before himself. He would go to Yoda in the morning. The decision made, he couldn't stop the rather childlike thought that everything would be fine now. Master Yoda would fix everything._

 

That was over 3 months ago. Master Yoda had been delighted at his request for assistance, and had become somewhat of a permanent fixture about their quarters, but still, the nightmares came. It gave him little comfort that the Master Troll was as unsuccessful at helping his padawan with this as he. Though Master Yoda did have a different theory about the root of the problem. He suggested that rather than just nightmares plaguing his padawan, perhaps visions instead they were. For some reason Xanatos found this disturbing, yet entirely plausible. He had recognized early that his padawan was quite gifted in the Unifying Force, but what possible future event could be causing his padawan such distress?

He looked to the young face, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the small window, the occasional shadow of a passing vehicle obscuring the now peaceful expression. At rest, so still and so quiet, Obi-Wan looked more like the little initiate he had befriended rather than the competent young man he had since turned into.

He smiled softly at the memory of a shy young Obi-Wan peeking at him over a begola bush in the small private garden that they still frequently used to meditate. As pleasant as that memory was however, it brought forth others that were decidedly less so. A time when his life was much less certain, a time not long before he came to know Obi-Wan. A time when he had been caught between Light and Dark, between life and death. His eyes closed at the sudden rush of remembered emotions.

_Waking in bacta. Alone. Confused. Reaching for a bond that no longer existed.Panic. Thrashing. So confused. Forcefully pushed back into unconsciousness.Waking again. Alone. Pain. Remembering. Shame. Fear. Despair._

_He had no memory of how he'd made it back to the temple. No idea how he had managed to survive what had taken place on Telos. He could only faintly recall, upon waking at the Temple, what had happened with Qui-Gon and how his master had left him. But whatcame next, in the days following that abandonment, he recalled only too clearly. The details so vivid, they would haunt his dreams for years to come. He closed his eyes tightly, fists clenching unconsciously._

_Never in his life had he felt such pain, such humiliation. He could still hear his screams echoing faintly against the cold duracrete; feel his body alightwith a fire of unrelenting pain. He had wanted to die, had in fact pleaded forit. He would have given anything for death to take him at that point._

 

A soft whimper drew him from his reverie and back to the present. Obi-Wan had turned towards him once again, the distress clear on his young face. Pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes, he ignored the slight dampness he felt. He cursed himself silently, sensing through the bond that it was his own distress that caused Obi-Wan to stir this time. He reached for the youth's hand, turning the palm upwards as he brought it to him. Using his thumb he gently stroked the sensitive skin on the inside of the boy's wrist. A light, but calming touch for the apprentice, and a familiar one for the master. Qui-Gon had often used the same technique, his way of soothing a child that considered himself too old and too proud to allow for anything more. He quickly steered his thoughts in another direction, unwilling to let his mind linger on any thoughts of his former master.

_His recovery had been painfully slow, the injuries he'd incurred on Telos having almost taken his life. Though for long after he was physically healed, he'd been kept in seclusion in the Healer's ward while the Council determined his fate. He had touched darkness after all. No, more than that, he had embraced it - - willingly. But he hadn't known. How could he have known? He hung hishead. He should have known._

_He would never forget the night they came to him, the entire Council filing into his room. He had risen, on legs that were still shaky, knowing that his fate had been decided. He didn't like what he sensed. Most of the Council members did not look at him directly, and the eyes that did meet his, held no sympathy._

_He went to his knees before them, knowing he had only one chance to change their minds. He waited until all eyes regarded him, and then slowly, purposefully leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest on the floor, his posture indicating his complete supplication to their mercy._

_As was customary, he was given a chance to speak before the Council imparted their decision. He kept his head lowered, his voice shakily betraying the certainty of his decision. He easily felt the surprise ripple through the Council at his request. A mind probe was not common or customary by any means, especially for a force sensitive being. It was more than a mere 'viewing' of ones memories. The person or persons doing the probe became part of the experience, they would see - feel - know what he went through. There would be no hiding. His entire self, his soul, would be on display for them to see._

_It had been a hard offer to make, especially considering what he'd endured on Telos. Yet he knew it was the only way for them to truly know that he had changed. He had seen the path he would have walked, had he chosen the darkness. Saw how his life up to that point had led to that path. He had been arrogant and foolish, flirting with a danger that he should have known better to toy with. But he had also been shown another path, one of light, and love, and hope. A path of purpose and sacrifice that would greatly alter the course of one possible future. There had been no specifics of course, only a sense of what each path would bring._

_He hadn't moved from his position, sensing the telepathic conversation- taking place between the Council members. He fought the urge to fidget, as time seemed to stretch. Some were opposed to his request. In the end it was Master Yoda who put an end to the debate, proceed with the probe they would. The tiny master approached him, laying one clawed hand atop his head. He was given a moment to center himself and prepare for what was to come, if in fact there was any way to prepare for the invasion of 13 separate individual minds into ones own._

_It started with a tiny itch behind his left ear. Had it not been for years of discipline he may have made move to scratch it, only to realize that the itch was coming from inside his head. He tried to remain calm, but the sensation was like nothing he had ever felt  
before. The entire Council felt his surge of panic, but it was Master Yoda who spoke to him, calming him -- giving him an anchor he could hold on to. Various memories were sifted, sorted, and then discarded. He knew it was only their way of being efficient and discreet, of not prying into memories they had no right to, but it felt so impersonal so cold. He couldnot help but feel violated at the process. _

_He stiffened slightly when the Council found the memories they sought, sensing the more intense regard as all 13 members focused on the events surrounding the mission to Telos. He tried to distance himself, but found it impossible. Though his body remained on Coruscant, kneeling before the Council, his mind was thrust back into the nightmare of Telos._

_When it was over, he lay trembling on the floor, the strength to move beyond him. He heard voices all around him, some sounding concerned, others a bit shaky. He tried to raise his head, and found he could not. He felt hands on him, lifting him, helping him to his feet. He tried to stand, his legs gave out.Someone lifted him, he wasn't sure who, placing him back in his bed. Faces swam all around him. MasterWindu, Master Yoda. He turned his head slightly, noticing only very peripherally that some of the Council members were standing; others were kneeling and was Master Gallia actually unconscious?_

_A small hand touched his face, wiping away tears he hadn't been aware he'd shed. Master Yoda was regarding him with a look of pride and compassion that he'd never seen directed at him by the tiny master. He was given no time to analyze, but was gently nudged into a peaceful sleep. Two days later he awoke, but this time he was not alone. Master Yoda was there once again. He was informed that Telos and what he'd endured there would be considered his trials, as there was little more the Council could put him through to prove his dedication to the Light. However, to be sure, and to please some of those on the Council that remained doubtful - - his knighthood would be conditional. He would be on probation for one full year, and would be required to keep regular appointments with a soulhealer. The healer, in turn, would report directly to the Council on his progress. At the end of that year, if all Council members were in agreement, he would be knighted._

_He kept mostly to himself during the time of his probabtion. Taking his meals in the tiny quarters he'd been assigned. The sessions with the soul healer were hard, but he never missed an appointment. He meditated often, finding a renewed connection with the Force. He was surprised when Master Yoda suggested that he use the small lush garden not far from the master's quarters whenever he liked. He, like most knights and initiates had assumed, wrongly itseemed, that the secluded little space was Master Yoda's personal garden. True, Yoda frequented it often to meditate and to care for the various array of plant life, but it, like any other garden in the Temple was open to all Jedi who wished to use it._

_He had taken the master up on his offer, and found the little garden immensely to his liking. It was on his first visit to the garden, as he was surfacing from his meditation that he sensed another presence. Turning to his left he saw two wide changeable eyes peeking at him over the little begola bush that separated them. He had sighed silently. He had comehere to be alone. The little one seemed to sense this, and turned from him without a word, to find his own spot. He watched the boy for a moment as he attempted to meditate. It seemed he was having a bit of a hard time. Thinking it none of his concern, and never being one to get along very well with children, he had left._

_When the same thing happened the next day, he considered finding another place to meditate, but thought better of it. This was not his place, and the boy seemed to be keeping his distance and hadn't really bothered him at all. As time went on, he began to sense the young presence when he entered the garden. They did not speak, but after a time there was a small acknowledgement of the other._

>He also noticed that the little one would study him for some time before attempting to meditate on his own, and that eventually, slowly, the distance between them was closing - - the boy moving just an inch or two closer as the days wore on. The fact that this did not bother him any longer was somewhat of a surprise. 

_Some weeks later he surfaced from his meditation to find the boy directly in front of him, only a foot or so separating them. The boy was still meditating, or at least that's what he assumed, as there was an almost comical look of concentration on the young face. The boy was trying too hard. He almost said something, but caught himself. It really wasn't his place. Feeling that it would be rude to just leave, he waited until the boy surfaced. They sat facing each other, still not speaking. He really didn't know what to say. When the boy offered him a small, shy smile, it was so utterly charming, that he could not help but smile back._

_Again to his surprise, he found himself looking forward to the time spent meditating with his young companion as the days wore on. It was obvious however that the boy was having some difficulties, and he easily felt the little one's frustration on more than oneoccasion. Eventually, though he was still a bit reluctant about doing so, he had offered his assistance. The boy seemed to know that it had been a difficult offer for him to make, and was very solemn in his response, yet there was no mistaking the appreciation or adoration, in those way too expressive eyes._

_Over the course of the next week he taught the boy 3 different techniques on how to quiet his mind and center his thoughts. Though they seemed to help some, the boy still could not manage to get past the first level of awareness and move into a deeper state of consciousness. The little one never complained, never asked more of him than what he offered, though it was obvious that the frustration was mounting._

_He would never forget the look in the boy's eyes as he surfaced from yet another failed meditation attempt. He never spoke a word, but those eyes seemed to say it all. Stormy gray eyes met his, offering an unspoken apology for wasting his time.When the boy rose to leave, Xanatos got the distinct impression he would not be returning. He reached out, grasping a slender wrist as the boy turned. He didn't know why, but the thought of the little one not returning saddened him._

_When the boy turned to him questioningly, he gently tugged him closer. Foregoing the classic meditation position he was currently in, Xanatos sank to the ground lotus style. Letting go of the boy's wrist, he held his hand out in offering. When the little hand was trustingly placed in his, he pulled the boy towards him and into his lap. Soft ginger hair tickled his chin as the boy turned, looking up at him. The gaze was questioning, and the complete and utter trust being bestowed upon him nearly took his breath away._

_He swallowed hard, not sure how he felt about such agift. The little one seemed to sense his discomfort and turned away, relaxing his small frame against him. Closing his eyes, he allowed his breathing togradually slow and deepen. It was a slow and deliberate process and he patiently waited until the boy's breathing matched his own. Centering easily, he opened himself to the Force, forming a tentative link between he and the boy. He backed off immediately, but did not withdraw when he sensed mild alarm at the contact. It was very brief, subsiding almost instantly when the boy sensed that is was he. He hadn't considered that one so young would have limited experience, if any, with such contact. The little one adjusted quickly however and was already exploring the extent of the bond before he could doubt his decision._

_He was patient, enjoying the curious, bright little mind. Curious, yet so respectful, never once pushing beyond the boundaries of the bond. The link was too tentative to allow for telepathic communication, yet the boy seemed to sense when he was ready to progress. Slowly, carefully, he led the boy into and through the first stage of meditation. It was painstakingly slow with such an active mind, but it became quite obvious the boy caught on quickly once shown what to do. That, it seemed was the key - - being shown asopposed to being told._

_His mind quieted, and finally at peace, the boy was able to easily transition deeper into stage 2. It was still a light surface meditation, but a milestone, judging by the unadulterated joy filtering through the link. It was mild and in no way distracted the boy from the focus he'd attained, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. He was content to wait in the wings, patiently allowing the boy to surface at his own will, in his own time, and without his assistance._

_He had barely opened his eyes when slender arms wrapped around his neck, the boy twisting in his lap and planting a bony knee in a rather sensitive spot.He winced slightly as the boy disengaged himself, pulling away to grace him with one of the most absurdly innocent and triumphant smiles he'd ever seen._

_Through the Force, and in that smile, he saw a glimpse of the path he was meant to take._


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan was just finishing his qualla berries and toasted brea when the door to his quarters chimed. Using the force, he released the locking mechanism as he made his way to the cleaning unit, placing the morning's dishes inside. He turned as Bant and Garen entered the small dining area, astrophysics books in tow. As always, he noted Bant's quick scan of the room before her gaze settled on him, offering a smile.

Obi-Wan looked to Garen, who merely rolled his eyes. Ignoring Bant he spoke directly to Obi-Wan. "Well?" He asked. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess." Answered Obi-Wan.

"Oh, please." Bant interjected. "You've passed everything that sith has thrown at us. Why would this one be any different?" She said in reference to Master B'Cia, the astrophysics instructor who was rumored to be almost as old as Master Yoda.

Tossing her data pad on the table, Bant dramatically dropped herself into a nearby chair. "Honestly, Obi. You make the rest of us look like . . ."

Both Garen and Obi-Wan turned to her as she trailed off. They followed her gaze as she uttered a final, "Oh my."

Oblivious to his young audience, Xanatos stood just outside the fresher, towel drying his hair. The towel about his waist slipping dangerously low as he leaned forward in an effort to reach all of his shoulder length locks.

Taking in Bant's gaping expression, Obi-Wan softly cleared his throat before speaking. "Master. We have company."

Xanatos continued drying his hair as he straightened and turned to face them. "So it appears." He said, draping the damp towel over one shoulder and sauntering into the dining area with a slight smile, completely at ease with his state of undress.

"Good morning, Bant." The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as she continued to stare at him open mouthed. He turned to Garen, allowing a bit of frost to creep into his tone as he formally addressed the other. "Padawan Muln."

Garen straightened his spine noticeably before acknowledging with, "Master Chiyari."

Xanatos noticed that his padawan seemed both simultaneously amused at Garen's reaction and absolutely horrified at Bant's. He watched as the young man nudged her with his hip, as he reached for the last of his muju juice.

For her part, Bant snapped her mouth shut at Obi-Wan's prodding, only to stare transfixed as a single drop of water fell from damp raven ends to trace it's way slowly down the nicely sculpted chest and abdomen, disappearing beneath the towel tied about the master's waist.

Finishing his juice, Xanatos set the cup back on the table, giving Bant a quick wink before exiting to get dressed. Finally, having the grace to blush at her rather overt admiration of the knight, her embarrassment did not hinder her from watching the retreating form as he made his exit.

Slightly annoyed, but used to Bant's infatuation by now, Obi-Wan ignored her as he picked up the empty cup and placed it in the cleaning unit. He turned, noticing that Garen had visibly relaxed his stance once again. Letting out a somewhat frustrated sigh, the young man spoke so that only Bant and Obi-Wan could hear him.

"Force. It's been two months, Obi. Is he ever going to let me off the hook?"

Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly at his friend's distress. "He already has, Garen. He's just having fun with you."

"Fun, huh? You know, it's not like I kidnapped you and forced you to drink that whole bottle of Bacari."

"Maybe not." Bant interjected, seemingly recovered from her hormonal daze, and smiling as she continued. "But you were the one who'd just had his 18th naming day and purchased us each a rather cheap bottle of our choice." The us' she referred to including Reeft, who was on planet at the time. "And then," she laughed as the memory reasserted itself. "You two geniuses, after sneaking through the entire temple AND making it past Master Windu - - end up having to ring the buzzer to get in."

Neither Garen nor Obi-Wan saw the humor here, both having been so thoroughly out of it that they'd forgotten their entry codes, well - to be more accurate, they'd forgotten Obi-Wan's entry code.

"Well, as I recall, things didn't turn out much better for you." Garen said dryly.

"That's only because you two lightweights got caught." Bant said, sobering some. "Reeft and I at least managed to sneak in undetected, just before curfew."

Listening to his friends argue over the specifics of where things went wrong, Obi-Wan realized he could only very vaguely remember making it back to his quarters that night. Someone, Garen it had turned out, had supported him rather unsteadily to his quarters. He did remember leaning against the door as he watched Garen frustratingly enter random codes into the keypad, before finally giving up and just ringing the buzzer.

Forgetting, and not really caring that he was leaning against the door, he'd felt the world drop out from under him as the door slid open and he fell backwards - - and into strong familiar arms. He had begun to feel quite miserable by that point, his head spinning, his stomach churning. On some level he knew he was home and safe and allowed himself to relax a little as he was lifted and placed somewhere comfortable, he had been entirely too intoxicated to worry about whether he was in trouble or not at that point.

There were many things he'd not remember from that night, and many things that he would - - not the least of which was his very first, and only, he solemnly swore that very next morning - hangover. He couldn't imagine feeling worse if he'd drank hyperdrive coolant, and he'd done this to himself.

Voluntarily!

What he would always remember and cherish however, was the constant and steady presence of his master throughout that long and horrible night. Xanatos, placing one cool compress after another on his forehead, soothing him with small comforting circles to his back as he retched out all his stomach had to offer, and more. Not laughing at him or scolding him when he quite seriously and miserably informed the man that he must surely be dying.

A small smile tugged at his lips at the silliness of that thought, though it had most certainly felt a reality on the night in question. He was so lost in his thoughts that he was unaware that his friends had moved on to another topic. He caught the end of what Garen was saying, just as his master re-entered the room.

". . . . . . new co-instructor for level 6 saber techniques . . . . . ." Garen trailed off as he noticed Xanatos.

Xanatos smirked to himself, enjoying the padawan's discomfort. He'd obviously been on planet too long, to be taking any type of amusement from such a thing. True, he'd been livid with the young man for getting his padawan drunk, but it had only taken a few well meaning friends to point out some of his own youthful escapades for him to cool down. If it had been anyone else, he'd have taken himself a piece of padawan hyde, but Garen and Obi-Wan had been best friends since their days in the crèche. He knew the young man would never do anything to intentionally harm his padawan. He'd also been acutely aware that on the night in question that Padawan Muln in all probability could have made his way home undetected.

"By all means, don't let me interrupt." Xanatos said to Garen as he approached his padawan, hooking a finger under the youth's chin, lifting his face in an effort to gauge the youth's stamina. Obi-Wan eyed him curiously, then subsided, knowing what his master was looking for. Satisfied with the bright gaze and well-rested appearance, Xanatos released the cleft chin. Of course, that well rested appearance had come at his own personal cost, but it was a trade off he could live with.

For the past week he'd had his own trouble sleeping. He, of course, refused to relate it to the return of a certain Jedi master at just about that same time. Never the less, he'd been able to give his padawan some much-needed rest. Yes, Well worth the trade.

"Um, well, ah . . . . . . ." Garen was floundering, obviously not sure if he wanted to continue with what he'd been about to say.

"Well? Spit it out, Muln." Bant said, rather untactful. "Who's the new instructor?"

Xanatos had just turned away from the group when Garen finally, hesitantly uttered, "It's ah, Master Jinn."

The silence that followed that statement rang with tension, and Obi- Wan noticed the tensing and stiffening of muscles in his master's neck and shoulders. The tension was not in the least bit eased when Xanatos finally slammed his fist down on the table.

"Damn that troll!"

The visiting padawan's faces easily registered their shock at such a statement; eye brows raised, mouth's forming surprised little O's. They looked to Obi-Wan, who was only surprised by the vehemence behind his master's words. The silently tense little tableau held for awkward seconds only, broken by the sound of the common room door sliding open and the familiar tap of a small gimer stick.

"Burning, my ears are. Talking about me, someone must be, hmmm?"

The only sound to follow that statement was the scrabbling of three padawans grabbing for data pads, sabers, and cloaks as they made as hasty an exit as possible while trying not to run over the damn troll' in the process.

XIXI

His steps slowed as he exited the lift. He hadn't been here in years, but it was as familiar as stepping into yesterday. This level of the temple had been his home for almost 12 years. The Master's level, where those master's who were actively training padawans resided.

Unconsciously, he paused outside those quarters that were once his own. His no longer, as the nameplate could attest. Lightly, his fingers traced the lettering, not seeing the name currently engraved, but that of Jinn/Chiyari. Abruptly snapping himself out of his fugue state, he continued on down the corridor towards his destination.

Stopping just shy of the next corridor, he cautiously rang the buzzer to Tahl's quarters, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about all the time that had passed without contacting her. Seconds passed and he turned to leave, thinking he'd missed her. He was pleasantly surprised when the door slid open to reveal her smiling face and slightly breathless countenance.

"Qui-Gon Jinn," She said, still smiling. "Give a girl a minute to finish getting dressed will you?" She stepped aside allowing him to enter. "I sensed it was you. You have a very distinct force signature."

He entered, feeling a bit awkward when she pulled him into an embrace. If Tahl noticed, she gave no indication. She pulled back slightly, but did not release him. "It's been far too long, my friend."

His smile was genuine as he gazed into her face, a face far more beautiful than he remembered. Her dark honey skin seemed to glow with health and happiness. "Yes. Yes it has." He did not say more, nor did he need to. The emotion in his voice was clear. He had missed her, never realizing just how much until this very moment.

Her smile widened in understanding, reaching her golden eyes; the beauty of which was not the least bit diminished by the one sightless eye and the faded scar that ran through it from just above her right brow, ending about 2 inches below.

"Well, come. Come in, sit down." She finally released him and urged him towards the sofa. "Would you like some tea?"

He had barely nodded his acknowledgement before she had turned to the dining area to prepare it. "Is jara root still your favorite?" She called from the kitchen.

He smiled, pleased that she had remembered. "Anything you have will do fine." He was beginning to relax a little. Tahl sensed this as well, as she let the silence that followed stretch comfortably, no longer feeling the need to fill it. Moments later, she entered carrying a small tray. "I was beginning to wonder if I were going to have to seek you out, my friend."

He lowered his head slightly, a small apology on his part. He'd not visited anyone in the week since he'd returned. "If it makes you feel any better, you are my first social call." He said genuinely, eyes twinkling.

"Am I?" She said in a slightly teasing tone as she poured them both a cup of tea. "What an honor indeed."

Aware that her friendly flirting may make him uncomfortable once again, she moved on to other pleasantries. "So tell me old friend, what have you been up to?"

Qui-Gon spent the next hour or so condensing and summarizing his most momentous missions from the past 8 years. It did not go unnoticed that he never mentioned Telos. Tahl sat quietly, listening attentively, asking questions when appropriate and paling every so slightly when Qui-Gon offhandedly told her of some narrow escape or rescue mission.

Thinking he had gone on long enough, Qui-Gon finally turned the attention back to Tahl. "And you? How have you been, my friend?"

It was obvious in the quiet way he asked that he was referring to the loss of her right eye and the events surrounding it. She had come to terms with that long ago, and may speak about that with him at some point, but not now.

"Never better, my friend." She said, and he sensed the truth behind the words. "My life is full, and I am as happy as I could ever hope to be." She paused for a moment before continuing, hoping her next words would not sting him. "You were right all those years ago, Qui. Taking a padawan learner is as rewarding as you said it would be."

She saw something shift in his eyes, and the sparkle dimmed a bit. Quite obviously suppressing his own reaction, he pressed on, focusing on her. "Yes, I'd heard you'd taken a padawan. I was hoping to meet him or her."

"Her name is Bant. I would love for you to meet her. She's quite an exceptional young lady." Tahl beamed, then reined in her enthusiasm a bit, not sure how her friend was truly feeling about the subject.

"You'll have to attend late meal sometime soon. It's her padawan rotation, so her days are full of back to back classes."

Qui-Gon nodded, completely understanding from his days as a master. For one full quarter, each annual cycle, padawans were required to spend on planet furthering their studies. It kept their studies current and allowed for a stability and routine that was often lacking in the field.

"Of course. I look forward to meeting young Bant."

"So," Tahl said, easing into another subject. "How are you spending your days, Qui? Has Yoda roped you into teaching any classes yet?"

"Actually, he didn't have to." Qui-Gon said. "I volunteered to co-instruct the level 6 saber technique class." He obviously left out that this was in part to get a closer look at a certain ex-padawan's padawan.

"Oh, how wonderful." Tahl said quite delighted. "You'll have the opportunity to meet my Bant much sooner than expected."

"Really?" Qui-Gon said somewhat surprised. "I hadn't realized. How old is your padawan?"

"She's in her 18th cycle," Tahl noted his surprised tone. Her response was quietly admonishing, easily camouflaged by the sadness of her tone. "You've been gone a long time, my friend."

"She's a bit young for level 6 isn't she?" Qui-Gon asked, sidestepping his prolonged absence. Level 6 was mainly for those preparing to enter into the senior years of their apprenticeship, usually at or about the standard age of 19 to 21, depending on the individual.

"A bit, I suppose. But she's not the youngest by far. Obi-Wan is the baby of the group at 17." She noticed how his eyes snapped to meet hers. So he knows who the boy is. "The younger padawans of the group, 6 total, all have rather intense mission experience. To place them any lower wouldn't be much of a challenge I'm afraid."

"Sounds like a talented young group." Qui-Gon said genuinely, though he was preparing to fish for more information. "So, are Bant and this Obi-Wan friends?"

Tahl was not in the least bit fooled, but took it as a good sign that Qui-Gon was interested in Xanatos' padawan. Perhaps the man was ready to come to terms with the past. "Yes, they are. They've been so since their earliest days in the crèche." She decided to make it easy on him and offer what information she could.

"Of course you can't mention Bant or Obi-Wan without including Garen and Reeft. It's almost like one long singular name." She laughed as she continued. "Those four are nearly inseparable. You can pretty much guarantee that where there's one, there's another not too far." She smiled and the fondness she felt for the little ragtag group was obvious.

Qui-Gon was edging towards more probing questions, sensing that Tahl and Xanatos at least had some minimal contact with their padawans being so close. Still, he felt the need to ease into the topic. "And will I have the pleasure of meeting all 4 this afternoon?"

"Unfortunately, no. We did our best to coordinate our rotations so that all 4 could be on planet at the same time, but young Reeft and his master are in the middle of a rather nasty dispute on Yogana. No telling when that will be settled." Her voice reflected the slight sadness and disappointment that Bant, Obi-Wan, and Garen had all felt upon hearing the news.

When Qui-Gon remained quiet, Tahl decided there had been enough beating around the bush. "Now, my friend. I sense you have questions. Lets get to them shall we?" Her look was knowing and patient, and she almost smiled when the corner of his mouth quirked slightly upwards. Had he really thought he could get one over on her? Continuing, she asked, "What is your interest in Obi-Wan?"

"You mean besides the obvious?" He asked enigmatically.

"Qui?" She asked somewhat hesitantly, knowing she was moving into touchy territory. "What exactly happened between you and Xanatos?"

He was silent for several seconds, a look of shock registering on his face. "You mean you don't know?" He asked quietly, though it was obvious he knew the answer from her demeanor.

"No. He would never speak of it. No one, with the exception of council of course, has any idea what really transpired on Telos."

She was surprised at his reaction. When he remained quiet, seemingly still in shock, she continued. "I must admit to being a bit of a snoop," she said somewhat embarrassed. "When I realized that something had happened and you hadn't returned to the temple together - - I was curious."

He nodded slightly, encouraging her to continue.

"Well, I went to the archives, to see what I could find out about the Telos mission," she trailed off here, not sure of how to tell him this. From his reaction, he had already assumed that she would know what happened.

"And?" He said, quite obviously waiting.

"And nothing." Was her reply. "It was classified, I couldn't access it."

"What do you mean you couldn't access it?" He asked, knowing that she had the same level of clearance he did. A master of his rank and experience, that similar to Tahl's, would have at least a level 13 clearance.

"Just what I said. It's cleared only for level 16 access." She knew that he would know what that meant - - Council access only.

He was quiet at that statement, but it was clear by the thinning of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes that he was more than just a little angry. He was containing it quite well she thought, until he finally spoke in a very measured and even tone.

"We'll just see about that."

He rose abruptly, obviously preparing to leave. "Qui," She stopped, not really sure what she wanted to say, but wanting to smooth things over. "Have you spoken with him yet?" She may not be privy to all the details but it didn't take a genius to figure out that something went wrong on that mission - - something very wrong between master and apprentice.

Qui-Gon paused before turning away and answering with, "briefly."

"And?" She cautiously probed.

"And nothing." He echoed her earlier words, just shy of being harsh. "There is nothing to say."

She sighed; he obviously wasn't ready to talk about this. Going to him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him tense. Leaning forward slightly, she let her chin rest on his left shoulder. "Someday, when you are ready," she said softly. "Come to me. I'll be here."

He was facing away from her, so she couldn't really see his expression. She did however feel him relax slightly as he reached for her hand where it still rested on his shoulder. He covered it with his own, giving it a brief squeeze - - and then he was gone.

XIXI 

Qui-Gon had only just left Tahl's quarters, intent on going straight to the archives when he heard what could only be described as a sultry chuckle, obviously feminine. It was coming from the adjacent corridor, just past Tahl's quarters and in the opposite direction from where he exited the lift earlier.

The laugh wasn't familiar by any means, but it did cause him to pause. "Oh, come on." The low voice said, taking on a seductive edge. "You know how cramped and uncomfortable the temp quarters are."

Ah, yes, the temp housing. Obviously the young lady was a new knight on high rotation or perhaps a visiting knight from another temple. Qui-Gon remembered those cramped and uncomfortable quarters well from his days as a new knight. It wasn't until he'd taken a padawan that he'd been assigned more permanent and spacious quarters. He'd have to thank Master Yoda for the nice set of rooms he'd acquired this time around. Turning, he headed back towards the lifts.

"Sorry, N'ieve." Qui-Gon stopped mid stride, eyes widening at the familiar voice. "You have no idea just how sorry I am," purred the silky voice. "But I'm afraid nights are just out of the question."

"Why?" Qui-Gon could almost hear the pout that accompanied the question. "Doesn't that adorable little apprentice of yours have an equally adorable little friend he can spend a night or two with?" The last was said quite hopefully.

"I'm sure he does," answered Xanatos. Qui-Gon recognized the diplomatic, albeit still purring tone. He knew the knight wasn't going to budge on his decision even before the man answered with, "however, it's not an option right now."

Qui-Gon heard a slightly forlorn sigh. "Alright Xan, can't blame a girl for trying. I can take a hint."

Risking a glance around the corner, Qui-Gon saw a flash of cascading amber hair and the swirl of a cloak as the young knight turned to leave and was swept back as a quick arm wrapped about her waist. She was pulled tight against a broad chest, looking pleasantly shocked and a bit breathless.

"I said I couldn't do nights," the voice now bordering on predatory. "Days however, are a different story."

"Are they?" Yes, definitely breathless. Qui-Gon, feeling very much like the voyeur he was being, ducked back around the corner as the young lady rose slowly up on to her tiptoes to meet the lips that sought her own.

He could have left then, but his feet seemed glued to that very spot. He listened as the kiss came to an end, hearing the young lady speak once again. "So, just how long do you have between classes?"

"Three hours. Is that enough?" Qui-Gon would recognize that mischievous tone anywhere.

"It'll do - - for a start." There was one more kiss in the corridor before the two disappeared behind a sliding door.

Still unable to move, Qui-Gon stood in the corridor for several moments after the two knights departed. He was unsure how he felt about the encounter he'd just eavesdropped on, until he remembered Tahl's proclamation about the archives. His forgotten anger returned with a vengeance. Taking a determined stride, he set off towards the lifts. Classified his arse! He knew what happened on Telos, so did the council -- and so would everyone else if he had anything to say about it.

XIXI

Obi-Wan finished up his stretching and moved into the opening stages of the 5th kata. He was relaxed and focused, feeling better than he had in weeks. He noticed Bant and Garen on either side of him, mirroring his movements. A non-intrusive nudge to the training bond alerted him thaT his master was near, though nowhere in his immediate site. He relaxedeven more into the kata, inexplicably relieved. It had not escaped his notice that his master had not been in the dining hall for noon meal, sitting with Master Windu, as was the norm.

The class finished it's warm up, 16 students in all, as Master C'ehpt prepared to address them. They were using the community salle today as they would be sparring. It was the final class of the afternoon, and many of the students, including Obi-Wan, were bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation. This was by far his favorite class. He had almost forgotten about the new co-instructor until the large man fairly stalked into the salle.

Not sure why, he felt a tiny thread of trepidation work it's way through him. He quickly released it into the force, unwilling to lose the focus he'd attained. He watched as Master Jinn approached Master C'ehpt, but leveled a piercing gaze at him as the two men conversed. It was hard not to be intimidated by that stare, but he did his best, giving a slight smile and nod of acknowledgment to the elder. Jinn's expression did not change, nor did he return the gesture.

Garen and Bant were at his side. Bant, as always, couldn't resist commenting. "Wow, what's his problem?"

"Issues. That man has obviously got issues." Was Garen's dry comment knowing from Obi-Wan what had transpired when the two first met.

Any further conversation was halted as Master C'ehpt introduced Master Jinn to the class, and still that penetrating gaze never left Obi-Wan. Either not noticing, or trying to be tactful, Master C'ehpt went about normal class business and began announcing the pairings for sparring.

"First match, Kenobi - Chun, you're up."


	5. Chapter 5

Doing his best to shake off the self-consciousness that Jinn's penetrating gaze was beginning to evoke, Obi-Wan took his place on the mat opposite Bruck Chun. With effort, he let all thoughts of Jinn slip away. He would need his focus for the upcoming match. He had not seen Bruck since their last match over a year ago. Knowing it was not Chun's quarter rotation, he could only assume the padawan was currently between missions. Only just returned apparently, or their paths would surely have crossed by now. Bruck always seemed to make sure of that.

Master C'epht had moved away, calling out another pair to spar on the northern side of the salle. Obi-wan took a defensive stance, saber not yet ignited. He was familiar with Bruck's style and the padawan was nothing if not predictable - - at least when it came to sparring with him.

The rest of the class settled in to watch, more than half making themselves comfortable along the perimeter of the Kenobi/Chun match. While Master C'epht monitored padawans Kieran and Sheval, Master Jinn motioned for Obi-Wan and Bruck to begin.

As Obi-Wan knew he would, Bruck was the first to engage, all but charging the slightly smaller padawan. Obi-Wan ignited his saber, easily blocking the first downward arc of Bruck's attack. Their sabers locked momentarily and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the other spoke.

"I've been waiting a long time for this rematch, Oafy-Wan."

Bruck had always had the disconcerting habit of talking, or rather baiting his opponent, whenever he sparred. Knowing Bruck's tactics by now, and vowing not to let the other padawan get to him, Obi-Wan merely disengaged his saber and blocked the next blow Bruck lashed out with.

He had no idea what it was about him that seemed to bring out this aggression in the other padawan. It was true that Bruck had never really liked him, and the feeling was mutual, but he'd seen a marked maturity in the white haired padawan over the years - - In all areas except where he was concerned. He'd tried to befriend the boy on more than one occasion, at one point thinking he'd actually succeeded, but it seemed Bruck just was not interested in a friendship with him. It had bothered him for a time, being the type of person that everyone seemed to like and want to be around, but he had eventually let it go. It was more than a little arrogant for him to assume that everyone should like him.

"So where's your watchdog master, Oafy?" Bruck said as Obi-Wan deflected a strike to his left shoulder. "Not around to break this one up, huh?"

Smirking, the other padawan picked up the pace in an effort to drive Obi-Wan back. It worked, for as long as Obi-Wan allowed. He stopped just short of stepping off the mat, and their sabers locked again. As their eyes met, Obi-Wan was hard pressed to define the underlying emotion he saw flickering within that intense regard. The warmth of Bruck's breath caressed his face as the boy spoke again.

"We finish this one. Understood?"

Surprising Bruck, as he usually managed to resist commenting regardless of Bruck's taunting, he answered with, "Understood."

Applying pressure to the saber against his, Obi-Wan began to push Bruck back, deciding it was time to put the other padawan on the defensive. They were pretty evenly matched, except for the inch or two Bruck had on him in height. Obi-Wan stayed grounded for the most part, which also threw the other padawan off. Most of his agemates knew he preferred the aerial maneuvers when sparring, however the mere fact that they knew this was a distinct disadvantage to him.

He had been working with his master to make his own style a little less predictable, though he eventually reverted to the more familiar style once an advantage was gained. The two traded blows for some time, and it was obvious that Bruck was growing annoyed that he hadn't yet gained the upper hand. Both were lightly glowing with perspiration, heart rates just beginning to elevate.

As time wore on, Bruck slowly moved in to take advantage of the slight 'flaw' he'd discovered in Obi-Wan's technique. He was just about to make his move when Obi-Wan leapt into the air in an attempt to somersault over his head. Bruck turned to block the blow he knew would be coming from behind him. What he wasn't prepared for was the other padawan using the Force to freeze his momentum mid flip, then reversing his descent, effectively landing behind him. He just barely managed to twist his body to block the heat of the sapphire blade, though it had come close enough to singe his ponytail.

The anger in those intense brown eyes was unmistakable as Bruck turned to face his opponent. "Nice move, Oafy." Said begrudgingly, if not sarcastically. "Master Xan show you that did he?"

Obi-Wan bristled slightly at the lack of respect for his master in Bruck's tone. Still, he was somewhat prepared for this baiting, and was determined to not let Bruck get to him.

XIXI

Xanatos stepped out onto the level three viewing platform that overlooked the community salle, his eyes automatically drawn to his padawan and the ongoing match with Bruck Chun. Folding his arms within his cloak, his eyes flickered to the sidelines where Qui-Gon Jinn attentively monitored the match. He stiffened slightly, feeling some of the tension his afternoon workout had relieved begin to return.

Hair still damp from his shower brushed the nape of his neck as he inclined his head, only the sides being tied back out of his face, allowing the rest to fall where it may. It wasn't necessary for him to be here, it wasn't like anything was going to happen. Still he lingered, and soon his attention was drawn away from Jinn and to the match unfolding before him.

He smiled, unabashedly prideful, as he witnessed the flawless execution of the reversing flip his padawan had worked so hard to perfect. The smile widened when the boy hesitated, just long enough for Bruck to awkwardly block what would have been the kill point - - effectively prolonging the match a bit longer. His padawan very much loved to spar. And, he had to admit Obi-Wan was a site to behold when sparring. The boy was never more in his element than when he held a lightsaber in his hand.

His Obi-Wan was made for battle, and though he did not thrive on such a thing, one had but to watch him in action to know he would be one of the greatest warriors the order had ever put forth. The set of Bruck's shoulders indicated to him what the youth thought of the move. Resisting the urge to shake his head, Xanatos recalled the last match between the two.

_It had been an unsanctioned and unsupervised match, and one that had started innocently enough. Free time was just that. It wasn't uncommon for padawans to spar amongst themselves, though the rules where clear that such activity should take place in the community salle where there were always others present, in the event that anything should ever happen. Sabers were to be set to training mode only, and the rules that applied during a sanctioned match would apply to any other._

_It had been Garen and Obi-Wan who had originally been set to spar during free time, what was it, a year ago? He'd actually been engaging in some quality free time of his own with a newly knighted N'ieve, after which she suggested they burn off some lingering energy in the salle. When they'd arrived, the fight, as that was the only way it could be termed, was already in progress_

_He'd ascertained from Garen afterwards that Bruck had started it of course. There were no monitors present, and no one seemed to care if certain rules were followed. Luckily, sabers had been set to training mode, however, it appeared it was no holds barred after that. By the time he'd arrived his padawan's nose was bleeding, and he had thought, broken. Tunics had long since been shed and both were clad only in leggings. There were numerous marks and abrasions covering both of them, though Obi-Wan seemed to have taken the worst of the beating, trying his best to adhere to the rules of the game no doubt._

_He'd had to force his way through the crowd of padawans, so caught up were they in the match unfolding before them. His presence alone was enough to cause some of the audience to disperse, realizing the unsanctioned match was effectively over. By the time he'd reached the mat's edge, Obi-Wan had managed a kick to Bruck's chest, effectively stunning the other padawan momentarily enough for Bruck to lose the grip on his saber. It hit the mat solidly, automatically deactivating. He did not have time to call his weapon back to him with the Force, as someone else beat him to it. All eyes watched as the saber skidded across the mat, and flew into Garen's hand. Xanatos caught the concerned look on Muln's face and knew that the match had gone on far longer than it should have._

_Apparently incapable of accepting the match was over, Bruck launched himself at an unsuspecting Obi-Wan. The two went down in a tangle of limbs, Obi-Wan just barely managing to thumb off his own saber. Xanatos and Garen were on them immediately, in an effort to pull them apart. It was a measure of his padawan's loss of control and focus that the boy resisted him, still trying to go after Chun, who was also straining against the arms that held him._

_Relinquishing his hold on the boy's arm, Xanatos grasped his padawan's face in his hands. "ENOUGH!" The voice booked no argument and the effect was immediate, both boys stilling instantly. Obi-Wan's eyes were wild as they met his, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through him. The turbulent sea green eyes darkened to a stormy gray as the shock of his actions began to seep through._

_Grasping his master's forearms, the padawan fought to control his emotions, as well as his breathing. He locked his gaze with his masters, latching on to the anchor of calmness and serenity being offered. Peripherally, he knew there were others present, but the world around him faded into the background as he sought to find his center - - focusing only on the soft cerulean eyes before him, eyes filled with gentle understanding, and an almost unnerving patience that had always been reserved for him alone._

_Xanatos stood silent, still cradling the face before him. Watching. Waiting. He'd always been fascinated by the boy's eyes, and over the years had been able to discern his emotions in the ever changing depths of blue, gray, green - - and the various shades of each. When the eyes before him reached the deepest of blues, he released his hold._

_Turning to Bruck, the master kept his voice as neutral as possible as he spoke. "I trust you can find your master and accurately inform her of this afternoon's activities, padawan Chun."_

_"Yes, Master Chiyari," Perfectly respectable tone, eyes downcast as the boy no doubt began to wonder if his actions were truly worth the extra hours of meditation he was sure to endure._

_"Make sure you do, as I will be speaking with her myself later this evening." Looking to his padawan, he noticed the boy's eyes were downcast as well. It would do no good to discuss his actions here. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, be began to lead him from the salle. A talk was definitely in order - - and Bruck was not the only one who would be doing extra meditations this evening. It wasn't often at all that his padawan lost control, and he knew the boy well enough to know that the young man was already berating himself for his behavior, for letting Bruck get to him._

_Turning slightly, Xanatos saw Bruck watching them leave. Noticing the regard, the padawan grabbed his saber from Garen's hand and quickly walked away in the opposite direction. He sighed silently to himself. It was hard not to feel some sympathy for young Chun, as he knew something about the young man that few did. Certainly the boy's master knew, though they had never actively discussed it - -perhaps it was time. It wasn't that Bruck disliked Obi-Wan Kenobi at all. Infact, it was quite the opposite. The boy was a little too enamored with his padawan, and it was quite obvious he wasn't sure how to deal with those feelings - - or with his burgeoning interest in members of the same gender in general._

_The sympathy he felt for the boy was of course not for his sexual preference, but for the object of such affections. He had observed many a padawan, and even a few knights, both male and female taking notice in his Obi-Wan. His padawan was yet unaware of the allure he very naturally and unconsciously projected, part of the appeal no doubt. It's true his padawan was still naïve when it came to such matters, yet the master also knew that for his padawan there would only be one true love - the Order, and all that it stood for._

_As they left the salle, Xanatos squeezed the young shoulder his hand still rested upon. He was beginning to sense the stirrings of regret, confusion, conflict and shame through the bond. A talk was definitely in order. His eyes darted briefly to the left where N'ieve stood patiently. He hadn't really forgotten her, and he lowered his head just the slightest in acknowledgement. It wasn't really an apology, as they both knew who and what his first priority was. She knew that she meant something to him, she may not be exactly sure of what that was, but one thing he had always made clear was that his padawan would always come first._

Xanatos' attention was drawn back to the present match, his raven brows rising ever so slightly at the rather aggressive, almost sloppy blow his padawan had just lashed out with. He could only imagine what Bruck was saying to goad the other. That boy had learned long ago that to get to Obi-Wan Kenobi you needn't bother with taunting the source himself - - you go to those he cared about the most to get a reaction. It was young Bant's honor the boy was defending in his last match against Chun. Xanatos had to wonder just who the target was this time.

XIXI 

He had tried, he really had. Still, he could feel his frustration mounting, his concentration slipping. It was seeping into his movements, making them aggressive and choppy, rather than fluid and graceful. He was annoyed, there was no doubt about that, though he had yet to cross the line that Bruck seemed to be pushing him towards.

It wasn't so much what Bruck was saying, but how he was saying it. The perceived disrespect for his master is what started his agitation, and was now to the point of seriously ticking him off. Just what was the kret implying? Of course he was close with his master. Too close? What was that supposed to mean?

Why was Bruck so interested in what kind of bond he and his master shared? All masters share a bond with their padawan's, true - - some were stronger than others . . . . . Is there a point to this?

"What's the matter, Oafy?" Bruck continued to taunt, his inability to gain control of the match as much of a frustration to him as his taunting was to Obi-Wan. "Did I hit a nerve?"

Wishing the boy would just shut up, but not willing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal reply, Obi-Wan launched a quick parry of moves forcing Bruck into silence in order to defend himself. The padawan countered somewhat clumsily, then stepped back allowing some space between the two, both taking the opportunity to wipe the sweat from their eyes.

Bruck's eyes narrowed slightly, and Obi-Wan knew the boy was almost out of steam, that what came next would be the final confrontation of the match. Whatever reserves Bruck had left, he unleashed in his final assault - - it wasn't enough. Obi-Wan met every blow with a steadiness that infuriated him. He'd yet to best the young man in a match. That in itself was a blow to his ego, competitive as he was - add to that his nascent attraction and his inability to deal appropriately with it, and it was only natural that certain emotions were suppressed - - and others subverted.

Bruck's voice was low and rough, though it was doubtful if he cared who heard him at this point. "We've all heard of your master's escapades, Oafy. It's even been rumored that he tried to seduce his own master." Oh, he was on dangerous and unfounded ground now, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. His voice was almost a whisper, but he knew the other could hear him, he could see the rage building in eyes the color of pewter.

"I heard he didn't even take the traditional knighting trials. How much time do you think he had to spend on his knees before he convinced the council to knight him?" Ouch! His smirk was replaced with a hiss as Obi-Wan's blade made contact with his thigh. A reminder that a saber set in training mode could still do some damage. Absorbing the pain, letting it meld with his anger, he continued to purposely provoke his agemate.

"What, nothing to say? Could it be that I'm hitting a little too close to home?" He was about to make or break this match, and he intended to do whatever it took to win this one. "Tell me, has the master that screwed his way to knighthood, regardless of race or gender, managed to bed his virtuous little padawan yet?"

Obi-Wan froze, causing Bruck to pause - - and to wonder if perhaps he'd gone too far. The pause was infinitesimal, long enough for understanding to dawn in changeable eyes. The moment he came to understand what Bruck was implying, was apparently visible to the other as that patented smirk surfaced once again.

His shock was short lived, as it was replaced by a white-hot fury that seemed to start at his toes and infuse his already heated body with a burn that hungered for release. Bruck had already moved in to take advantage of the gaping padawan, sensing his chance to end this match now. He felt the shift in Obi-Wan's demeanor, as did everyone else within the immediate vicinity. His attempt to end the match was met with a strong and furious counter blow that sent shock waves up his saber arm.

It's doubtful that even if he not already been irritated and well on his way to angry, that he'd be able to stop the maelstrom of emotions currently coursing through him. That anyone would possibly twist or taint a relationship that was so precious to him, it was just incomprehensible. It was not within him to hate, but at this very moment, hate was exactly what he felt for the boy before him.

Later, he would realize the wrongness of his actions and be heartsick at what was currently taking place. Unwittingly, he was letting his anger, his hatred, feed and drive him as he viciously attacked Bruck with every ounce of his strength. The smirk had long since disappeared from the boy's face, a combination of surprise and just perhaps a touch of fear seem to color the pale complexion. Beyond seeing any of this, Obi-Wan just kept driving Bruck back towards the edge of the mat. Focused only on the smirk he saw in his mind's eye and the boy's malicious attempt to contaminate something that was meant to be beautiful.

Bruck was weakening before him, barely managing to counter his vicious attack. Then, when the boy went to one knee before him, Obi-Wan's world exploded in pain and white flashes of light behind his eyelids. There was something pressed to his throat, making it hard to breath. His entire head was encompassed in a searing pain that seemed to radiate from the back of his skull.

Realizing his eyes were closed, he opened them carefully - - and stared straight into the unyielding eyes of Qui-Gon Jinn. He had time to realize that he was flat on his back, that it was Jinn's forearm across his throat. His contemplation ended as he heard the hiss of a saber being ignited and a familiar violet blade was pressed to the man's throat.


	6. Chapter 6

"Back off, old man." Qui-Gon easily recognized the thin edge of menace in the voice that accompanied the blade placed at this throat. When he didn't move, only continued to look down into the dazed and uncertain eyes beneath him, the distant heat at his throat became more of a burn, and the voice above him turned more forceful. "Now."

Releasing the boy from his grip, he rose slowly to his knees, then to his feet - the violet blade following his movements. Once standing, he met the frosty glare of his former apprentice, easily reading the desire in those eyes to run that blade straight through him. It was brief however, as concern for his apprentice apparently took over.

It wasn't until Xanatos powered down his saber and crouched next to his padawan that Qui-Gon noticed the stillness of the salle, and the shocked and gaping faces that were regarding him. Young Chun seemed incapable of movement, still on his knees where Kenobi had left him on the mat. The padawans along the perimeter gazed at him with eyes that seemed too big for their faces - - except for the two who had moved to the side of the boy at his feet and was looking at him rather accusingly.

Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos helped his padawan into a sitting position, his hand automatically going to the back of the boy's head. It wasn't until that moment Qui-Gon realized that the boy's head had missed the mat and made contact with the hard duracrete. The felt a slight twinge at that, he had not set out to deliberately hurt the boy.

Turning slightly as Master C'epht approached, he noticed that the instructor's shock was not quite as obvious as that of his students, but palpable nonetheless. Bypassing Qui-Gon, Master C'epht went to Xanatos and assisted in helping Obi-Wan to his feet. When the boy noticeably swayed, each master instinctively reached to steady him - Qui-Gon pulling his had back at the look of warning from his former padawan.

"M'alright." Obi-Wan said as Xanatos steadied him.

Xanatos merely studied him for a moment, sensing through the Force that the boy wasn't seriously hurt. He kept one hand securely wrapped around the boy's arm as he turned to address Master C'epht, though his eyes flickered to Qui-Gon as he spoke.

"For obvious reasons, I will be withdrawing my apprentice from this class Master C'epht." His tone strove to be neutral, but some of his anger towards Qui-Gon clearly bled through. The apprentice in questions turned quickly to his master, his distress at this decision clearly visible, as was that of the two padawans at his side, yet they all remained quiet.

"That wont be necessary," Qui-Gon said, sounding a bit condescending, but with his Jedi serenity firmly back in place. "I've seen all I needed to see."

A heartbeat of silence, and only Obi-Wan was aware of the swell of emotions that momentarily surged before his master locked them away. "As you always have, my master." No warmth or respect in his response.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed at the disrespectful tone, but Master C'epht intervened before more words could be exchanged.

"This is not the time or place for this discussion to take place." His voice was low and his gaze quickly swept the perimeter of students, reminding both Qui-Gon and Xanatos of their surroundings before settling his gaze on Qui-Gon.

"Nor is my classroom the proper arena to settle such obviously personal matters." His quietly admonishing tone included Xanatos with his next statement. "Settle your issues elsewhere."

"Interesting form young Kenobi. That flip was quite impressive." Shifting his focus, and not giving either master a change to respond. "Perhaps at a later date you can demonstrate it for the entire class."

Obi-Wan accepted the praise with grace, but had the look of a man waiting for the other boot to drop. Master C'epht sensed this as well, and recognized that it was not his place to lecture the boy on his loss of control, especially in front of the entire class. He shared a look of understanding with Xanatos, receiving a small nod, acknowledging the matter would be attended to. He noted the boy still looked a bit dazed and that Xanatos still held him in a steadying grip.

"I'll be sure to comm the healers." He continued. "They'll be expecting you."

"Thank you, " Xanatos said as he guided Obi-Wan towards the exit, sparing one last heated glance in Qui-Gon's direction.

*~ * ~ * ~ *

Qui-Gon finished out what remained of the class observing the students unobtrusively. They were obviously a bit wary of him, and right so, he silently admitted to himself. What had he been thinking?

"Thinking, you were not." Said an exasperated voice from the direction of the floor. A small sigh. "Gone better, that could have."

"Yes." Qui-Gon agreed with a sigh of his own. "It could have." He had intended only to observe Obi-Wan, not to physically assault him.

"Sit with me. Talk we will." Yoda moved to a bench in a quiet corner of the salle, knowing that Qui-Gon had questions he wanted answers to as well. When Qui-Gon would have spoken, Yoda help up a hand to stop him. "Know of your trip to the archives I do. Necessary for that mission to remain confidential it is - - for now."

"Necessary for who? You seem to be forgetting something," Qui-Gon said, allowing a small trace of his earlier irritation to return. "I was there. I know exactly what happened on that mission. What concerns me is why it is being kept such a secret. Why are you, and the entire council for that matter, protecting him?"

Qui-Gon's voice had started to rise slightly, and a look to Yoda sitting there so calmly and serene as if they were discussing the weather nearly sent him soaring. "He turned on me." The anger and hurt at that betrayal was clear in the quietly controlled voice. "He turned his back on everything I ever taught him."

"Seemed that way, I know it did." Yoda's voice reflected the compassion in his eyes and his hand reached to settle on Qui-Gon's much larger one. "Understand you will, when time is right."

"I understand perfectly." And he did, as far as he was concerned. Now to move on to a more pressing matter. "You saw the match?" He asked, knowing full well the little master had probably been hidden in any one of the nooks and crannies throughout the salle, or watching from one of the many viewing platforms above.

"Observe the class, I did."

"And will you still justify leaving that young man under Xanatos' influence?" Qui-Gon asked. "It's obvious the boy cannot control his anger..."

"Obvious, is it?" Yoda interrupted. "Know the boy so well do you?" When all Qui-Gon did was give him a silent glare Yoda continued.

"Know you do not, if Obi-Wan can control his anger. Give him a chance to do so, you did not."

"I suppose I could have waited for him to maim Padawan Chun before stepping in." Qui-Gon said, irritated with how this conversation was going. Yoda himself was slightly exasperated. So stubborn his former padawan could sometimes be.

"Very few padawans maimed, when set to training mode sabers are." Yoda stated. "Perhaps young Obi-Wan was not the only one who let his anger get away from him, hmmmm?"

Qui-Gon immediately went on the defensive. "I did what I thought was right - in the moment." Yoda had to wonder if it sounded as weak to Qui-Gon's ears as it did his own.

"Mmmm. Thought it right to push a young padawan down and sit on him, did you?"

Qui-Gon quietly cleared his throat. Put that way, he couldn't help but look a bit chagrined.

"Angry you were, with me, with council. Took it out on another you should not have."

Qui-Gon didn't like what he was hearing, but he recognized the truth in Master Yoda's words. He was as guilty as young Kenobi for giving into his anger, more so actually, for he was a master and was expected to have a better rein on his emotions.

"Excusable Obi-Wan's actions may not be, but understandable on some level they are." Yoda continued at Qui-Gon's questioning look. "History there is between Bruck and Obi-Wan. Were not you so focused on Obi-Wan, recognized you would have, the tumultuous emotions from both youths. Test this was for both of them."

Thinking back on the match, Qui-Gon realized he had only been peripherally aware of padawan Chun. He had been so focused on Kenobi, that he easily felt that first spark of anger ignite. He'd paid no mind as to what may have caused it. He did however recall the intensity of the attack, once the boy had allowed his anger to take hold.

"The Force is very strong with him." Qui-Gon said reflectively, his mind going back to the match. "It pools around him, just waiting for him to call on it."

Yoda listened quietly, his ears perking slightly as Qui-Gon spoke of Obi- Wan without his resentment for Xanatos coloring his opinion of the boy. The little master knew that if anyone could heal the rift between the two men, it would be Obi-Wan. If Qui-Gon would just see the boy for what he was. He was disappointed with Qui-Gon's next words however, his ears once again drooping slightly.

"Understandable or not, he gave into his anger too easily." Qui-Gon said, returning to the present and looking to Yoda. "He could easily be dangerous. Especially if left under Xanatos' instruction."

"A padawan learner, he is." Yoda said with an emphasis on learner, and deciding to only address the first part of Qui-Gon's statement. "Hard it can be, learning to control such volatile emotions. Struggle with it still, some not so young Jedi do as well." Yoda said, ignoring the narrow look Qui-Gon sent his way.

"Young, he is. Human, he is. Male, he is." Yoda said as if that explained it all. "Adolescence is a hard time for many species, yet seems especially so for you humans. Remember I do, another padawan struggling to control his anger - at the injustices of the galaxy. Learn you did, to accept and release your anger. So shall young Obi-Wan as well."

Qui-Gon was still not convinced. How could the boy learn such things with a master who was tainted by darkness? Xanatos himself had struggled with his own anger, as well as arrogance as a child. If he couldn't control himself, how could he possibly hope to teach these things to Obi-Wan.

Yoda easily sensed the direction of Qui-Gon's thought and decided it was time to take a little walk. He lowered himself from the bench as he spoke.

"Come. Walk with me you will."

*~ * ~ * ~ *

Master and apprentice were escorted to a small examination room upon their arrival at the Healers Ward. Obi-Wan hopped easily onto the exam table as the apprentice healer spoke.

"The healer on duty will be with you momentarily."

As she left, Xanatos took a comfortable stance, leaning his shoulder into the wall and folding his arms casually. They hadn't spoken much on the way here, and now his apprentice was sitting across from him, decidedly not looking at him. For some reason, it was terribly easy to be reminded of times past. In his minds eye, the seventeen year old before him was transformed into a nervous little boy with huge eyes, a tentative smile, and an overenthusiastic swing to his feet as he bravely awaited his fate at the hands of the healers - - and all that just for inoculations. Fortunately at that age, all it took was a stick of sprygmint to wipe away an unpleasant visit to the healers. That hadn't been the case for many years now however.

Coming back to himself, and his now not so small apprentice, he took a moment to wonder at his sudden nostalgia. He'd been privately reminiscing a lot lately, and it just wasn't like him. Odd.

Obi-Wan had still yet to look at him, but it was obvious that the silence was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Best to say something before the boy starts fidgeting.

"So," Casually stated, "You want to tell me what that was all about?" Taking the conversation back to what happened with Bruck in the salle.

"No." Softly, but still not looking at his master and therefore missed the surprised arch to elegant brows.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have phrased that as a question." Sounding a bit more masterly and less casual, Xanatos straightened his stance, though he was obviously still willing to give Obi-Wan the option of opening up about what happened with Bruck rather than ordering him to do so. A moment more of silence and Obi-Wan finally spoke.

"It's . . . . . It was just Bruck being Bruck." Which was true enough. A frustrated resigned huff was followed by, "I can't believe I let him get to me . . . . . . again."

"He did more than get to you, padawan." Xanatos' tone was one of concern, but his disapproval was evident. "You would have run Bruck into the mat if Qui-Gon hadn't stepped in." He took a breath before continuing. "While I certainly don't agree with his method," Boy, was that an understatement. "He was right to step in." And oh, how it hurt to give that man any credit.

The master paused to let his words sink in. He too had felt the moment Obi- Wan had given into his anger, but unlike Master Jinn, he had resisted the urge to step in. He had been willing to wait, to see if, no not if - when, his padawan would get himself under control. Xanatos had every confidence that Obi-Wan would have mastered his anger. Though, he had to admit that wouldn't have been very fair to Bruck on his part. If he had been the one monitoring the match, he would have had to step in as well.

It wasn't until Qui-Gon had gone overboard and charged the boy that Xanatos himself took action. One moment he had been standing on the level 3 platform, the next he was holding his ignited saber to his former master's throat. It wasn't until Obi-Wan spoke that Xanatos realized he'd let his thoughts wander.

"I'm sorry, Master." His misery at disappointing his master was evident. "I shouldn't have gotten angry."

"Obi-Wan," Xanatos said, his voice understanding. "If what Bruck said made you angry, you have a right to that anger." When Obi-Wan finally looked up from the floor to meet his gaze, he continued.

"We're not droids, padawan. We have emotions. The trick is learning to not let those emotions rule you."

"Tell me," Xanatos asked. "How did you feel as you sparred with Bruck?"

"I . . . ." A pause to really think about it, then haltingly, "I felt out of control." The shame in that admission was obvious.

"That's because you weren't in control." Xanatos said as he moved to sit next to his apprentice. "You let your anger control you."

When Obi-Wan would have lowered his head, Xanatos stopped him by placing one finger under his chin and tilting his face upwards. "Had you accepted your anger and released it into the Force - - you would have been able to focus on winning the match, rather than pounding Bruck into the mat."

"Yes, Master." Meekly, feeling properly chastised, as he knew these things yet he'd still let Bruck get to him.

"So, do you want to tell me what it was Bruck said that got you so riled up?" His master asked, as if sensing his thoughts. When Obi-Wan hesitated and looked slightly uncomfortable it became obvious that he most certainly did not want to talk about it. With that, the master could only assume, and correctly so, that he had been the target of whatever malicious commentary Bruck had been spewing. Though he was curious as to the content, he decided not to push his padawan on the specifics.

"Was there truth in what he spoke?" Xanatos asked carefully, breaking the silence.

"No!" A little more adamantly than necessary and the boys face reddened ever so slightly, whether is was from anger or embarrassment Xanatos couldn't tell. He suspected a mixture of both.

He gave Obi-Wan a moment to think about what he had just said. When he received a sheepish glance from beneath a sweep of ginger lashes, he knew his point had been made. Not only did Obi-Wan lose control of his anger, and give into it too easily - - it turns out that his anger had been completely baseless. Had anything Bruck said actually been true, it wouldn't change how that anger should have been dealt with, but perhaps that anger would at the very least have been justifiable.

"I doubt anyone, myself included, would thank you for coming to their defense by giving into your own anger, padawan." Xanatos continued. "Your loyalty to those you hold dear is to be commended, but as you know, it is completely unnecessary." He was happy to see his padawan taking this all in and giving it some serious thought.

"As I recall, young Bant was less than grateful for your chivalrous display of defending her honor." Xanatos said, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

Obi-Wan's hand unconsciously went to the side of his head as he remembered the rather hard thump upside the head his mon calamari friend had given him. No, she had most certainly not been grateful.

Xanatos smiled softly at his padawan. He did not need to access the training bond to sense Obi-Wan's thoughts. The boy's eyes were unfocused, his thoughts turned inward. To him, Obi-Wan's facial expressions had always been an open book. He could read each mood, each shift in emotion in the flicker of an eyelash, the subtle change in eye color, a twitch at the corner of the mouth - - and occasionally the slight wobble of a chin. His padawan was very expressive, but he also knew it was a privilege he had earned and was allowed to see. The ever-present neutral mask that they must often adopt as Jedi could slide into place very easily. The open and trusting nature of their relationship allowed both of them to keep their shields at a minimum when circumstances allowed.

The sharp focus of blue-green eyes once again met his, a curve of a smile playing on slightly parted lips - - the padawan aware of his master's own introspection.

"I understand, Master." Serious tone. "I will do better next time." No guilt, no self-deprecation, just the acceptance of a lesson learned. "I will meditate on my loss of control."

Xanatos nodded, happy that his padawan had suggested it on his own. Further discussion was halted as Healer S'ierge finally made her entry.

*~ * ~ * ~ *

Qui-Gon slowed his step noticeably as he became aware of the direction Yoda was steering their steps. He should have known really. When Yoda set his mind to something, there was absolutely no distracting him. It crossed his mind to argue, but he realized he would have come here on his own eventually. He had to make sure the boy was all right, that he hadn't seriously hurt him.

If it weren't for the smell, which was universal to any healing center throughout the galaxy, the setting before him would have been inviting. Warm autumn colors were muted and soft, big overstuffed chairs the color of Narivian honey placed at intervals throughout the large waiting area, some in large clusters and others in one of the many niches designed for those who sought a more intimate or private setting. Various plant life and floral arrangements dotted the room and the lighting was a soft as candlelight.

Instead of approaching the healer apprentice at admissions Yoda started towards a small out of the way niche, settling himself comfortably. Qui- Gon followed suit, sitting down and folding one leg over the other. There was no use being impatient. Yoda would take his time, and it was obvious Yoda wanted him here for more than just checking on the boy's condition.

Yoda waited for a young healer apprentice to pass, and sought her attention. "Here to inquire about a patient, we are. Tell me, can you, the status of Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Of course, Master Yoda." The young lady replied, clearly nonplussed at addressing the highest-ranking member of the council. Taking a moment to access her data pad she found the information she was looking for.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is currently being seen to by Healer S'ierge. She has yet to enter any notes, but it appears his injury is not serious. He is being released as we speak."

"Thank you, we do, Padawan Chakote." A quick bow of her head and she was gone. Qui-Gon breathed a noticeable sigh of relief and was about to speak when Xanatos and his padawan entered the waiting area from one of the exam rooms.

They were far enough away and out of the pairs direct line of sight that is was possible that he and Yoda would not be noticed at all. Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos gave his electronic signature at admissions to sign his padawan out of the ward. This again brought home to Qui-Gon how young the boy was. It wasn't until a padawan turned 18 cycles that they could sign themselves out. As master and apprentice conversed quietly, Qui-Gon observed the easy camaraderie between the two. They seemed quite at ease with each other.

Qui-Gon was mildly surprised when Xanatos reached to grasp the boy's shoulder in an obvious sign of affection, steering him towards the exit. As his padawan, Xanatos had been adverse to any sign of public affection, and sometimes in private as well.

Their soft laughter at something they boy said, and Qui-Gon's surprise at the whole exchange was curtailed as a shrill, yet cherubic voice echoed through the waiting room.

"Obi-Wan!"

Luckily, it was coming from the opposite direction, and Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan went to one knee, a small streak of silver flying into his arms.

"Sholie, my little fighter." He said as he gave her a brief squeeze and pulled back to look at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Shots." Answered the little one with a pout and a noticeable lisp. As if on que, a frazzled apprentice healer came out of nowhere.

"Sholie!" Stopping short upon finding her charge, "Oh, I'm sorry Master Chiyari." Addressing the master as Obi-Wan still knelt with the child in his arms. "She just wont stay put. The rest of her agemates have already had their shots and returned to the crèche."

"Are you giving Padawan Kryss a hard time?" Obi-Wan asked, recognizing his agemate and hoisting Sholie up onto his hip as he stood.

"Noooo." A definite touch of a whine. "She wants to hurt me."

"Now Sholie, you know that's not true." Obi-Wan said, trying to soothe Sholie and the young padawan who looked stung at her words. The youngling looked down, as if finally being ashamed of her actions.

"What species is that child?" Qui-Gon asked Yoda, realizing he wasn't sure.

"Vioshi, she is. First of her kind to enter the order, she is."

"She's beautiful." Qui-Gon said, taking in the shiny silver fur and the black tufts of fur at the tips of her ears and the end of each paw - and eyes as black as onyx, which were currently trained on the sleeve of the young man who held her.

Qui-Gon was slightly startled when 3 inch ivory claws extracted from one paw and gently lifted the sleeve to caress the tender skin beneath. He watched as the boy holding her whispered softly into her ear and looked down at the arm that Sholie seemed entranced with.

"Found her on one of the moons of Piatchi, Obi-Wan did." Qui-Gon had heard of it, it was in the outer rim, one of the more distant isolated planets. It's temperatures were rumored to rival that of Hoth. "Caught in a trap, she was. Hunted for their fur, by the locals, the vioshi are." "When tried to help her Obi-Wan did, she did not understand. Too young to understand what the Force was trying to tell her, thought he was a danger. Put her to sleep to free her, he did, but fought him hard first, she did. Lost a lot of blood, he did. When Xanatos found them, both unconscious they were"

Qui-Gon had looked to Yoda as he told his tale, but now found his eyes drawn back to this amazing young man. "Able to heal most of the scars, the bacta was, but so deep were some, that they will remain." He quietly listened as Yoda outlined their mission on Piatchi and how Sholie's tribe would not accept her back into their midst, as she had been tainted by human blood. He was too far away to see, but he suspected the young one traced one of the many scars that she herself had inflicted.

Obi-Wan continued to talk to her softly, and when Padawan Kryss tried to extricate the little one, she only clung tighter to Obi-Wan. "Would you like me to come with you?" He heard Obi-Wan ask. Sholie noticeably relaxed and suddenly shy answered, "Yesth."

Obi-Wan turned to his master and received a nod of approval. Qui-Gon pointedly ignored the look of both pride and affection he saw in Xanatos' eyes as he watched the boy carry the little vioshi towards an exam room.

"Trust your instincts, do you?" Yoda asked. Qui-Gon looked at him sharply, not sure where the master was going with this one.

"Correct, your instincts were, when first you saw the boy." Yoda continued. "Of the light, he is. Saw it for yourself, you did." They both watched as Xanatos turned and left the ward, never looking in their direction. "The Force has a job for Obi-Wan Kenobi, it does. Easy, it will not be. Time for you it is, to put aside your stubbornness and make peace with Xanatos. Need you both, Obi-Wan will."


	7. Chapter 7

Opting for the quiet and isolation of his quarters rather than the buzzing atmosphere of the dining hall, Qui-Gon made his way slowly to his rooms, his conversation with Yoda still at the forefront of his mind. Once there, he distractedly set about making his favorite brew of tea, the process of which, so long ingrained that he was barely aware of each individual step. A quick inventory of available foods showed little to choose from. Absently reminding himself to place a food order, he made a small plate of cold meats and cheeses. Grabbing the last of the flatbread and his pot of tea he settled himself at his table for one.

Of course it wasn't really a table for one. It could accommodate two, maybe even three more people, but in all likelihood never would - in his presence anyways. He had always been a loner and it hadn't ever really bothered him. A sociable type, he certainly was not. Oh, he could be when circumstances called for him to be, which many a mission did. However, he was a solitary and private man at heart.

Why was it now then, that he was so aware of the stilted silence of his quarters, of the empty seat across from him, of the place setting for one? It had never bothered him . . . . . before Xani. Who was he trying to kid? His days as a loner had ended the day Xanatos came into his life. He'd had to adjust his life accordingly when he'd decided to bring a child into it, and to his surprise, the transition had been much easier than one would have thought. It turns out that he had a natural talent when it came to teaching, and more than that, he sincerely enjoyed it. To impart his knowledge, to see it take living breathing shape in the form of the next generation of Jedi - - it was more than a mere duty for him, it was a pleasure, and an honor. And his new apprentice had been very eager to learn, yielding so easily to his greater knowledge and experience.

How it still hurt to think of those days, when Xani had been so young, so . . . well, innocent wasn't exactly a word that came to mind for his young charge. Still, it had been a new and wonderful time for them both. The boy had been so full of promise. He let his thoughts wander, fighting his instinct of the past eight years to shut them away and not deal with them at all. He let the memories come, and in doing so could almost hear the water running in the fresher, imagine that Xani would soon appear, his hair still wet and slicked neatly back away from his face, donning a fresh tunic, looking tired yet refreshed from their afternoon sparring session to join him for evening meal. Or if he listened hard enough he could hear that blasted techtronic crap that the boy insisted was the latest music topping the galactic charts, blaring from the youth's room as he called him to dinner. And of course there was rarely a time when they were in Temple that their evening culinary experience wasn't interrupted by a chime at the door - - usually sliding open to reveal a variety of youths, mostly female, who were currently vying for his padawan's attention. Much to his approval, Xanatos had always spoken to his suitors quietly, returning to the table with his master to finish their meal, and clearing his place setting before stepping out into the corridor where quite often a young lady still waited. Though in later years, once the boy had reached the age of majority, this scenario was often followed by a solicitous wink and a 'don't wait up.'

Unbeknownst to Qui-Gon, a small smile had taken up residence on his face as he mused. It became bittersweet and disappeared altogether as he allowed reality to once again settle in. Those times were over. That was then. This is his reality now. He looked around the barren quarters. They were nice enough, but there was no warmth to them. It was not . . . . home. He'd had a home with Xanatos. True, one they were rarely in - but it was always there to come back to. He'd truly felt like a rogue these past eight years, roaming from place to place, with no real home to return to. Throughout his life there had been many times when he'd felt alone, but he had never truly felt lonely. Not until his Xani, his pride and joy, had turned away from him and all that he stood for.

He'd done his best to move on - accepting one mission after another. There was always someone in need of his assistance, and he'd been more than happy to oblige. He'd visited many worlds, met many people, made friends, made enemies- was able to help some, others he couldn't, but still, in all his travels, he'd never managed to escape that feeling of loneliness.

He didn't want to be lonely anymore.

That quiet realization startled him slightly. He'd been alone for so long, a choice he'd made after Xanatos' betrayal, that only now was he beginning to realize how he had so utterly isolated himself. His personal epiphany was cut short however, as the door to his quarters chimed. Dropping his dishes next to the cleaning unit, he made for the door. He opened it to find Tahl waiting on the other side with her arms crossed. A sure sign she was irritated.

"Well. You certainly know how to make an impression don't you?" She said as she walked past him, turning to face him once she was inside.

Qui-Gon merely looked at her, his confusion evident, until it hit him. "Oh, Force." He said, more to himself. He had completely forgotten, until this moment, that Tahl's padawan had been in that disastrous class earlier this afternoon.

"Oh Force is right! What were you thinking?" She was not yelling by any means, but the tone of her voice was as disapproving as this particular woman ever got. She continued on, not really pausing to let him answer. "You weren't thinking at all obviously.."

"Tahl," he interrupted. "I've already been through this with . . . ."

"Well now you can explain yourself to me." She cut him off and stood waiting expectantly.

"Look," he began. "I really don't want to get into this again. The boy wasn't hurt."

"Lucky for you." He turned sharply, glaring at her. "I haven't been intimidated by that look since we were barely out of the crèche Jinn. Save it for someone who doesn't know you so well."

When all he did was sigh, Tahl took a breath and let some of her own frustration go with it. "Qui," slight hesitation, noticing how tired he looked. "I really didn't mean to come here and jump all over you. I just . . . I can't believe you did something so stupid." Her voice noticeably softer.

He sighed again and moved around her, entering the common room and taking a seat. She studied him for a moment, sensing that something had changed since their conversation earlier this morning. She went to him, taking a seat across from him. She was disappointed to note that the silence was about to become awkward, so she chose to break it.

"So, someone else beat me to the punch, did they?" Any hostility she may have had was gone. This man had been her friend for way too long, and she really wanted to help him through whatever it was that he was going through.

"Yes. You can rest assured that Master Yoda has properly berated me for my actions regarding young Kenobi."

Tahl could sense there was more, and was hoping that maybe Qui-Gon would open up to her and talk about it. He remained silent, however. When it appeared he would just let the silence stretch endlessly, she decided that perhaps for him to open up to her, she would have to do the same with him. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then started.

"You are aware of my mission to Melida/Dann?" She asked, noting how his eyes met hers and that she now had his full attention.

Qui-Gon nodded, he knew of that mission. He had been on assignment in the outer rim, had reported in to Council on his progress, when he'd heard of Tahl's capture from Master Yoda. It had hurt him considerably to know that he had been too far away to help her. All Yoda had been able to tell him was that a team was en route to retrieve her. He had been unable to contact the council again for almost a standard month, and was told upon his next communiqué with Yoda that Tahl had been seriously hurt, but that she was home and recovering.

"Did you know that it was Xanatos and Obi-Wan who rescued me?"

His eyes widened slightly at her words, his voice dry as he spoke. "No, I didn't know that."

"The request for Jedi assistance had been suspect from the beginning. It was a recording, quite obviously someone using a voice disruptor." She continued. "Still, Council thought it viable to investigate. You see, the planet had been at war for decades, the Melida and the Daan each fighting for control of the planet."

She was silent for a moment, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but find his gaze drawn to the scar going through her right eye. Those beautiful golden eyes that had always enchanted him. He had fancied himself in love with her once, and maybe he still was, but time and Xanatos' betrayal had soured him on the idea of furthering that or any attachment.

"The recording gave specific coordinates for where to land, and said that a liaison for both parties would meet the Jedi - me." Interrupting his thoughts as she continued. She closed her eyes, her expression painful as she remembered. "Gods, Qui. They were just children. Children. A young woman with red hair met me as I landed. She couldn't have been a day over fourteen." Tahl looked away, and he could see that she was remembering.

"Unfortunately my landing didn't go unnoticed. I hadn't even gotten two words out of my mouth when we were attacked. More children came out of nowhere, all of various size and ages. The youngest couldn't have been anymore than seven cycles." Her voice easily expressed the shock she had felt at the time. Clearing her throat softly, she continued, "they had makeshift weapons, but they were nothing against what we were being threatened with. The young woman, I later learned her name was Cerasi, and the other children tried to spirit me away towards some underground caves. The Force was urging me to follow, but I held back to make sure the children made it in safely. Once the last one was in, I started edging towards the caves."

She came back to herself, once again looking at him, a small humorless smile curving her lips. "I almost made it too." Sitting back, as if to distance herself from the memory.

"I was surrounded by Daan before I could make it to the caves. I fought as long and as hard as I could, but eventually I began to tire." Again that small humorless smile. "As you know, one Jedi can only do so much. I left myself open and . . . " She made a gesture with her hand towards her eye, "a well placed swing with a vibroblade . . . . . "

She left the sentence hanging and Qui-Gon clearly felt the anguish of remembered pain. A long moment of silence and she continued, "I must have lost consciousness, for the next thing I remember is waking up in a small dirty little room. My wounds had been seen to, but apparently they had nothing for pain - or did not want to spare it on me."

She glossed over some of the details of her capture and how badly she had been hurt in the ambush. Once in custody, she hadn't really been mistreated, but of course she was no longer really a threat at that point. The hardest part had been keeping the pain at bay.

"I was interrogated of course. The Daan assuming it was the Melida who had called for the Jedi. They planned to use me in their efforts against the Melida, but when I refused they really weren't sure what to do with me. I don't think they realized just how weak I was, that I wouldn't have been able to help them.

Qui-Gon sat across from her, his presence alone trying to convey any comfort she might need.

"It was three days before I felt the presence of another Jedi, and two more before they could get to me. Luckily, Xanatos and Obi-Wan were not ambushed and managed to meet up with the same children who had met me. A group of children, both Melida and Daan had banned together in their own resistance against the war plaguing their planet. They called themselves The Young."

She looked to Qui-Gon, telling him what he'd already been suspecting. "It was the children who asked for help. It was the children who wanted peace. Even so," she continued, "they had a natural mistrust for elders. I'm sure Xanatos could have gained their trust over time, but it was Obi-Wan who they identified with - - it was Obi-Wan they gave their trust to."

"If it were not for him . . . . well, let's just say I'm not sure how much longer I could have held on."

The cold feeling in the pit of his stomach had begun to spread at her words. He had not realized just how close to joining the Force she had been.

"Cerasi, the same young woman I had met upon landing, led them to the complex where I was being held via the sewage tunnels beneath. I tried to ready myself to assist, but I was so weak at that point. Within seconds of hearing the first blaster shots, I heard the hum of a lightsaber. My left eye, the one that wasn't bandaged, was swollen, but I could still see somewhat. I tell you Qui, I've never seen a more welcome sight than when that beautiful boy of yours swooped down on me like some avenging angel." A lighter tone, "of course he stunk to the high heavens after crawling through those tunnels." Then more seriously, "he did what he could for me there, gave me something for the pain, which was a blessing. All the while I could still here blaster shots being deflected."

Qui-Gon listened as Tahl told him how Xanatos lifter her and was able to carry her to safety, all the while wondering if his former padawan was as gentle with her as he would have been.

"I vaguely remember spending some time underground, various children watching over me, Xanatos or Obi-Wan always nearby, as they awaited the cover of darkness to make for their ship. Even then, as out of it as I was, I could tell there was something else going on. The looks that passed between them were so filled with tension." Momentarily changing the subject she asked, "Did you know that Xanatos and Obi-Wan could speak telepathically?"

He shook his head, somewhat surprised. Their bond must be a strong one indeed. That kind of a connection between master and apprentice was not always a given. Though a training bond could give a general sense of well being and often make it easier to locate one another, only the deepest bonds allowed for the transfer of thoughts.

"We were able to make it to the ship without incident. However, it wasn't until we made the jump to hyperspace and Xanatos gave me some more pain medication that I realized Obi-Wan wasn't on board."

Qui-Gon looked to her, startled. Before he could say anything, Tahl continued. "Most of the details of their mission I learned later, during my recovery." She sounded very sympathetic, but for what Qui-Gon was not yet sure. "They had been sent to retrieve me, not to fight a war. Officially the Jedi could not even recognize the children's request for assistance, as they were minors. Unofficially however . . . . . "

She trailed off momentarily. Qui-Gon knowing that a Jedi in the field was often allowed a certain amount of leeway. Since Xanatos and his padawan were already there, they could have left and been done with it - - as they had already completed their mission by rescuing Tahl, or they could do what was necessary to help this war torn planet, without the support of Council.

"Obviously, they could not ignore this plea for help, but neither could both of them stay as I required medical attention beyond what this particular society was capable."

Qui-Gon heard himself asking in horrified amazement, "He left him there?"

"Qui-Gon," Tahl stated seriously. "Obi-Wan was an integral part of the rebellion that brought peace to that planet. It's true, he got a little too caught up in their cause, but that isn't so unusual for a new padawan. We do our best to prepare them here in the Temple, but how can we ever really prepare our young ones to be tossed into the middle of a war zone?"

Knowing the question was rhetorical; Qui-Gon could only wonder how Xanatos could have done such a thing.

"It wasn't an easy decision Qui-Gon," Tahl continued as if sensing his thoughts. "It tore him apart. I could see it in his eyes. Thankfully, the pain medication and a light healing trance allowed me to be more coherent and to be there for him. At some point on our journey home, Obi- Wan was hurt. Unfortunately the distance was too great between them and Xanatos couldn't tell if the pain was physical or emotional." She looked at him, her eyes pained. "It was heartbreaking Qui. He just didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. When he finally opened up to me about what was going on, after some prodding on my part of course - - it was at that moment that I realized that he was no longer the same young man that had been apprenticed to you. I don't know what happened between you and Xanatos, Qui, or what exactly changed him, I suspect Obi-Wan is the biggest reason - - but he has changed."

When Qui-Gon looked away she was disappointed, but continued on. "It took two days to get to Coruscant. He was there long enough to deliver me safely into the hands of the healers and to refuel before heading back to Melida/Daan. He didn't even report to Council, and you of all people know how well that goes over."

When Qui-Gon merely frowned, she went on. "It wasn't until they returned to Coruscant and I received a visit from Obi-Wan that I discovered what the source of his pain had been. In his short time on Melida/Daan Obi-Wan and Cerasi became very close. The pain Xanatos felt from Obi-Wan was when she was killed."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes in sympathy. It was a hard lesson for one so young to learn. A necessary one for a Jedi, but that didn't make it any easier.

"I've gotten to know them both quite well over the years since then, Qui. They are a remarkable team. And it was through Obi-Wan that I came to know my Bant."

Qui-Gon was silent, reflecting on all he'd heard. He couldn't stop that feeling of hurt and betrayal that still echoed through his very soul at the mention of Xanatos, but at the same time he couldn't stop the small seed of pride that was beginning to take root. Pride for the man he always knew his padawan could be. Though he was loath to admit it, he wanted to hear more, but was not ready to ask for it. Thankfully, Tahl spared him the torment.

"Did you know that Xanatos chose Obi-Wan as his padawan when the boy was only 9 cycles?" She really wasn't sure exactly what Qui-Gon knew of his former padawan. She suspected that Yoda had kept him updated, but she wasn't really sure.

Qui-Gon was definitely surprised, and it showed. "Why so young?" He could only ask.

"I don't know. But from what I've heard, any master looking for a padawan learned early on that that boy was taken. At that age of course, he was far too young for missions, but from what I could gather their bond formed early. Until he was the proper age to accompany Xanatos on missions, Obi- Wan stayed in the initiate's wing while his master was on assignment. Yet when he was on planet, and this I learned from Bant, Obi-Wan would stay with Xan, taking his proper place as his padawan."

"Hmmm." Qui-Gon was definitely intrigued by the nature of this master /padawan relationship. His thoughts could not help but be conflicted after all he'd heard. He thought about opening up to Tahl about what happened on Telos, even opened his mouth to do so, and then stopped. He couldn't do it. Not yet. His earlier question regarding Melida/Daan kept echoing through his consciousness, melding with his own actions on Telos.

_He left him there?_

Hadn't he done the exact same thing under such horrendous circumstances? He closed his eyes, pushing the thought away, unwilling to go there.

"Qui-Gon," Tahl interrupted his thoughts. She had given him some time to think on all she had said. Now she had something else to say. "At the very least you owe that boy AND his master an apology for your actions earlier today." When he looked more than a little shocked at her suggestion, she said, "If it were any other master, it wouldn't even be an issue. You'd have done it already."

He groaned silently. He did not want to do this. He was not going to do this. And no one was going to make him do this - not even Tahl.

**One Hour Later**

He stood outside the Chiyari/Kenobi quarters, his hand frozen half way between himself and the buzzer. It was his third aborted attempt. Pulling his hand back, he turned to pace back and forth in front of the door. He still did not want to do this. Realizing the ridiculousness of his behavior, he stilled himself and stepped up to the door once again. Without hesitation this time, he reached out and depressed the buzzer, hearing an answering echo within. It was too late to back out now.


	8. Chapter 8

Qui-Gon stood expectantly, waiting for the door to slide open. He was just starting to think this whole confrontation/apology scenario would have to wait, and was pretty happy about it, until the door slid open to reveal . . . . he looked around, then down, and into the very pleased eyes of Master Yoda.

His surprise was evident, and he continued to stand there speechless as Yoda spoke. "Wondered I did, how long you would hover out there." He turned and walked into the dining area, looking back at Qui-Gon curiously, when he did not follow.

The question in Qui-Gon's eyes must have been obvious, as Yoda's next words were, "Xanatos is not here, sleeping, his padawan is."

Qui-Gon entered reluctantly, aware that he would not be welcome here by anyone other than Master Yoda.

"Tea for me, you will make. Interrupted my holovid you did." Yoda continued walking towards the common room, calling back over his shoulder, "Gone til tomorrow, Xanatos is."

This relaxed Qui-Gon considerably, and though he still felt out of place he removed his cloak and prepared to do as Yoda asked. With such a small kitchen, there was only so many places for supplies, therefore it didn't take Qui-Gon long to locate the tea cabinet. He recognized amongst the inventory the familiar blend that was a favorite to his master. He had to wonder just how often the tiny master frequented here.

Entering the common area, he was instantly struck with the warmth of the small and inviting room. There were meditation candles placed intermittently throughout the room, which were currently lit. The furniture was arranged to allow for the most open space possible in the small room. Two meditation mats were folded neatly and placed in the corner. Various holos adorned the walls and the small tables available in the room, one of which immediately caught his attention as he entered. Xanatos, looking very much like the padawan he had known, his hair had grown out some, but was still short. No braid, he noticed. He was on one knee facing a young Obi-Wan, both wearing their formal whites, as Xanatos worked a braid into ginger hair. He didn't spend too much time studying it, wanting to move on before he would be forced to recognize the faintest feeling of regret that was beginning to stir within him.

Placing the tray of tea down, he settled himself next to Master Yoda on the sofa. Once both had their tea in hand, he asked the question he had been wondering since he'd first discovered the tiny master here. "What exactly are you doing here? The boy's a bit old for a babysitter isn't he?"

"Sustained a head injury the young one did, want him alone, his master did not."

Qui-Gon winced inwardly at that little reminder, as was probably intended, however he also suspected the reason that Yoda was here was a little more involved. "Yes," he said, trying to rein in the sarcasm, "I see that. Where is the overprotective young master?" Clearly recalling their first confrontation in the corridor and the violet blade that had been pressed to his throat earlier today.

Yoda didn't say anything to that, just continued to look at him until Qui-Gon was forced to lower his eyes, realizing how out of line his comment was.

"On planet he is. Visiting with Senator Organa in sector 4." About 3 hours distance from the Temple, Qui-Gon estimated. Still he couldn't help but wonder what Xanatos had been thinking, leaving his recently injured padawan alone.

Easily reading the younger man's thought process, Yoda continued. "On planet for only one day's cycle is Bail. Know well you do, that childhood friends they were. Remained so, they have." Yoda did not feel the need to include that both he and Obi-Wan had had to all but push the man out the door. It was a sign of trust that Yoda took to heart, that the young man would leave Obi-Wan to his care. Xanatos did not trust easily, as both master's present currently knew

"Pleased, I am, that decided to come you did. Ready, are you, to set things right?" Yoda asked when Qui-Gon remained silent.

"I'm here only to apologize for my actions earlier today. I was out of line, and I regret that Obi-Wan was hurt due to my frustrations."

Yoda could only nod in approval. It was a start.

"I would however like to ask you some questions." Qui-Gon said, hoping Yoda would give him answers instead of riddles.

"Your questions I will answer, if able I am." Yoda answered.

"I spoke with Tahl earlier. She'd heard that Obi-Wan was chosen at nine cycles? Is that true?"

"True, it is."

"Why so young?" Qui-Gon asked, then, "were you so sure?"

"When the match is right, no reason there is, to wait." Yoda paused and Qui-Gon was about to pursue the matter when Yoda continued. "Had many doubts, I did as well. Agree to the pairing at first, I did not."

"Why?" Qui-Gon kept his question simple, surprised by Yoda's unusual openness.

"Had thoughts I did, that meant for another, the boy was." Yoda remained silent, but continued to look at him meaningfully.

Qui-Gon's brows rose, surprised. "Me?"

"My first choice you were, for Obi-Wan's master."

Whatever Qui-Gon had been expecting, this wasn't it. His puzzlement was plain and was reflected in his next question, "Then . . .?" At a loss for more words.

"My choice, you were. Other ideas the Force had, as did Obi-Wan." Yoda finished his tea, setting it aside. "Drawn to each other they were. Deny it, I could not."

Qui-Gon was thoughtful, recalling his first run-in with Obi-Wan in the corridor. He had felt something at that first meeting, a sort of electrical charge to his Force senses. It had been soft, but he'd been noticeably affected. When Xanatos had entered the scene, he'd been caught off guard, slamming adamantine shields into place and cutting off that connection. He'd not examined it since. Was that the source of the connection? Could it be that this boy was meant for him? The possibility left him reeling, not really sure what his feelings were one way or the other.

Yoda was as yet unaware of his current introspection, as evidenced by his next statement. "Harder it was, to convince Xanatos to take the boy."

Qui-Gon was puzzled, "What do you mean? He didn't want him?"

"Want him, he did. Never in doubt were his feelings for the boy." Yoda was very adamant about this. "Himself it was, that he doubted."

Qui-Gon looked doubtful himself at that statement. "Master, that boy has never had a shortage of confidence in his entire life." It truly was hard for him to imagine Xanatos in this light.

"Change, things do. Important job, he knew this was. Loved the boy he did, but let him go he would have, if thought it better for the boy."

"So what changed his mind?" Qui-Gon asked. It was obvious something did, as the two had been together for years now.

"Know for sure, I do not." Yoda said, managing to convey a slight bit of frustration at not knowing this particular tidbit of information.

XIXI

In the next room, Obi-Wan Kenobi shifted restlessly beneath his covers – a faint sheen of sweat beginning to cover the pale moonlit complexion. The smallest sound of distress escaping him as the peaceful darkness of sleep began to give way to an all too familiar landscape.

The lush beauty of the planet had given him a false sense of serenity when at first the dreams began. It truly was a beautiful place, one he was sure he'd not yet actually visited. Rolling green hills stretched throughout the countryside, eventually lending way to thick hearty forests, and spotted with some of the most beautiful waterfalls he'd ever seen.

Though he was never actually able to see his master in the dream, he knew the man was there, could feel his powerful and comforting presence. They were there on a mission, the specifics of which were lost to him in his present dream state. He did however get a general feeling that they had expected it to be a routine and simple mission - - He, as an observer however, had long since began to suspect that it would be anything but.

The regal visage of the ornately decorated child like queen appeared before him as he dreamed. Despite his increasing feelings of foreboding, he smiled when he saw her. The first few times she had appeared to him, she had alternated between the royal attire she now wore, and that of one of her handmaidens. He couldn't place her at first, without all the makeup, but he soon figured out that the two were one in the same. He liked her. She was strong and straightforward, two qualities he would admire in anyone.

As the dreamscape once again began to change, becoming darker, more shadowed, Obi-Wan began to move more restlessly in his bed - his feeling of foreboding growing stronger and stronger. The images of the beautiful landscape gave way to harder more defined angles, they were now in what appeared to be a hanger. Still, he could not see his master, yet found comfort in just knowing he was there. Others were there as well, but they seemed insubstantial in the face of what was to come.

This was the part of the dream he'd come to dread. No longer able to watch the dream as an observer, he became a part of it – was present in his own body, without any control beyond that which the dream would allow. Following his master's lead, they advanced towards an exit, stopping short as the door slid open at half speed to reveal a black clad figure which his dream self knew to be a sith.

The group he was in is suddenly gone, leaving only he and his master. The robed figure stands sure, feet parted, hands behind his back, head bowed. Master and apprentice advance as the figure raises his head, the voluminous cowl of the cloak managing to conceal the sith's identity. A silver cylinder is produced from behind his back, wrapped securely in a black leather gloved hand. In his dream, Obi-Wan watches, mesmerized, as the blood red saber ignites – then in shock, as a dual blade is extended from the other end. It is a formidable looking weapon, resembling a staff more so than a saber.

His body moves forward without hesitation, while his mind- his dream self, can only watch through his own eyes as the battle unfolds. His master sets the pace for the attack. They move effortlessly together, each knowing the other's next move before it is executed – a part of him registering that their style is slightly different than what he is presently accustomed to.

Moving deeper into the reactor core, the sith does it's best to separate them. A well-timed kick to his master's chin sends the man tumbling off the catwalk. Obi-Wan can feel the smug satisfaction bleeding from the cloaked man. Again his body moves forward without hesitation, without his control. It seems he has no say in how this will play out, his mind trapped within his dream body. Wait. Wait. He wants to wait for his master. He has no control over his body, watching helplessly as it continues to push the sith back.

Too late, his body seems to realize that this is exactly what the Sith wanted. Through the bond, he can feel his master's concern, the older man steadily making his way towards him. He's backtracking now, trying to make his way out of the corridor, and towards his master. A gesture from a gloved hand activates the revolving laser door behind him, blocking his retreat. Knowing the doors will begin to cycle, an aggressive move on his part sets the sith back a step or two just as another wall is activated between them.

Uttering a curse, the sith bangs his light staff against the wall in frustration. They are each in individual cells, his master a steady presence two cells behind him. He keeps his ground, watching as the sith steadily stalks back and forth in his cell. He can feel that the Sith is watching him, regarding him from beneath his black hood. At the same time he wonders at the sith's identity, he knows that he doesn't want to find out. As if sensing his thoughts, the Sith stops pacing, coming to stand directly before him.

He is drenched in sweat now, tossing and turning in his bed in an effort to not see what the dream wants him to see. Wanting to turn away, he is held fast by his dream self – with no choice but to watch as slowly, the Sith reaches to pull back the concealing cowl. No. No. No. No. He's repeating it over and over. A bad feeling doesn't even begin to cover what is about to happen to him.

He can feel the Sith's pleasure. Pleasure at his torment, pleasure at what is about to be revealed. Bowing his head, the Sith lifts the cowl. It's happening very slowly, and Obi-Wan realizes that he's never made it this far before – always waking up before the Sith's identity is revealed. Finally, the hood is drawn all the way back, a head is raised - - and a scream of denial rips from his throat as his entire world comes crashing down around him.

XIXIX

It has not escaped Qui-Gon's notice that Yoda has yet to give him a direct answer as to the real reason why he is here sitting vigil over Xanatos' padawan. The clues he's collected thus far, indicates that the tiny master is a frequent visitor.

In typical Yoda style, the subject has been changed, and Qui-Gon knows better than to push it. Matters of Council is the new topic, nothing above Qui-Gon's present security clearance of course – oh, and here it comes, he wondered just how the little troll would work it in. Much sooner than he'd expected actually. Once again the possibility of Qui-Gon taking a seat on the Council comes up, a topic he very much wished would die a slow and agonizing death.

His place is in the field. It is where he lives, and someday – it would be where he died. He had no gift for prescience, but he knew this to be true. He would die in action, doing his duty, as he was meant to. He was a warrior, and he would die a warrior's death - - anything else was unacceptable.

He'd had this discussion with Yoda before. His master knew he had no interest in a Council seat. The fact that Yoda knew this and continued to pursue the subject, had given him pause on occasion. Unlike him, Yoda was extremely gifted in the Unifying Force and there were times he was left to wonder if perhaps his master were trying to save him from something – or prevent something from happening in his future. He tended not to dwell on those thoughts however, as he was a firm believer that all things happened for a reason. You can't cheat fate – nor did he want to.

A chanced glance at the chrono alerted him to the lateness of the hour. This visit had turned out to be much longer than expected.

"Tired, you are getting hmmmm? Wander, your mind does, when tired you are."

Smiling, Qui-Gon answered, "You know me too well master. I believe it is time for me to retire." He reached for the tray as he stood, preparing to return everything to its proper place before leaving. It was then that he felt the disturbance within the Force. Both he and Master Yoda were already moving towards the smaller of the two bedrooms as the agonized scream tore through the quarters.

He did not recall using Force enhanced speed, yet one moment he stood holding a tray of tea – the next he was holding an armful of warm struggling padawan. He could sense Yoda nearby, but focused his attention entirely on the boy in his arms.

Qui-Gon could tell that the nightmare that woke the boy was already fading; yet Obi-Wan continued to fight him, reaching beyond him for something that only he could see. The feelings of terror and very real grief bounced chaotically along the Force currents flooding the room, washing over both masters. This was no mere nightmare. The screaming had stopped, the boy's voice going soft, yet holding such despair as he repeated the word 'no' over and over again. Whispering words of comfort and reassurance into the boy's ear, Qui-Gon began rubbing soothing circles on his back, waiting patiently for the struggling to abate.

He could feel the boy reaching out through the Force, searching for the familiar reassurance of his master. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to reach back. The jolt he felt at the contact seemed to go unnoticed by the boy – in his current state. He did however feel the power in which Obi-Wan latched onto that bond, seeking to anchor himself. He had not done so blindly however. It had been thoroughly analyzed and deemed acceptable in only micro-seconds. Very impressive considering the youth's state of mind.

Qui-Gon became aware of the constant beeping of the comm unit in the common area as Yoda quickly left the room. Xanatos no doubt. First hand proof of the strength of their bond, not that he needed any after Tahl's confirmation. The body he held had slowly stopped struggling, sleep once again taking hold, the tension in those muscles beginning to ease as he continued to gently rock the boy.

Having never fully awoken, Obi-Wan began to slowly slip back into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. Fragments of the dream already beginning to fade, the disturbing image of the sith and the two words it had spoken beginning to soften, as sleep once again claimed him. He would not remember the all too familiar features of the evil creature that mocked him. Eyes that had once held only warmth and affection regarding him with malice – their color as blue and cold as the arctic waters of Hoth. The pale features sharpened by contempt and the shock of thick raven hair. And that voice, that much loved voice, no longer holding the tenderness that had always accompanied the words,

_"Hello padawan."_

Shivering slightly, he once again reached out for the unfamiliar yet comforting Force presence surrounding him. It was not the presence he sought, but it was safe, and somehow – felt right.

Feeling the boy in his arms shiver, Qui-Gon held him closer, feeling uncharacteristically protective of this boy he barely knew. Wrapping him securely within the Force, he lulled the boy gently towards sleep. Obi-Wan surrendered with a soft sigh, one last word falling from his lips, sounding so much younger than his seventeen years.

"Master."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes at the title, knowing it was not meant for him, yet at the same time – there was no mistaking just how right it sounded.


	9. Chapter 9

His internal time sense woke him at precisely 5th and one half hour, as it did every morning. He was immediately aware of his surroundings, easily remembering all that had occurred only a few hours before. Sitting forward in the chair he'd found next to the bed, his neck found it necessary to protest the rather unorthodox placement in which he'd chosen to sleep. A light touch of Healing Force soothed the persistent cramp, and he gently turned his head from side to side to work out any remaining kinks.

That done he looked to the still sleeping boy before him. Obi-Wan lay on his back, face turned away, the strong jaw line dusted with early morning stubble. His limbs were spread, in the complete abandonment of his youth, one arm up over his head, the other hanging over the opposite edge of the bed, palm upward, fingers slightly curled - the foot closest to Qui-Gon sticking out from beneath the covers. Without thought, Qui-Gon tugged on the blanket, covering the boy's foot as he prepared to stand - - stopping as the boy sighed in his sleep, turned his head to face him, and kicked his foot free of the offending covers.

Amused, Qui-Gon studied the young face that had turned to him. Children always look so much younger in sleep, so innocent, he thought. It was times like these that he truly made pause to consider if perhaps the Jedi really did ask too much of their young ones. Very rarely were the children in their midst allowed to be the children that they were. Much is expected of them, from the moment they enter the Temple and become wards of the Jedi.

Watching Obi-Wan sleep, it was easy to recall the countless times he had done this very same thing with his own padawan. It was one of the only times he saw the boy with all his defenses down, completely vulnerable. Qui-Gon shook his head, exasperated by even the memories of his former padawan. The boy always had to be in such control of himself, so determined to show no emotion, no weakness. He'd had to admit to himself that this had been an asset to them on many a mission, but when the same mask extended in private, when they were alone together - - it did tend to be a bit unsettling.

There had been other times of course, when that mask of control had slipped or had been forcefully removed by circumstances beyond the young man's realm of experience. It was during those times that Qui-Gon glimpsed the very real and frightened child that lie beneath that mask.

Perhaps the most memorable of those times for him, would be Regula. He shuddered at the memory, vaguely surprised that it could still affect him so. He and Xanatos had been sent to investigate the rumor of an underground slave trade, the planet being on the outskirts, but part of, Republic space.

The operation under surveillance was believed to be part of a much larger organization – most of which were connected to worlds beyond their reach, where the Republic's anti-slavery laws meant nothing. However, it had also been alleged that some very influential officials within the senate and other political circles on Coruscant and abroad had been known to fund the illegal trade.

The ultimate goal of their mission of course, was to shut down the Regula operation. However, the Council and senate both wanted the key players from within their own circle fleshed out. Qui-Gon hadn't known then, just how far up the ladder the corruption within their own beaurocracy had reached. He and his apprentice had entered the operation undercover – having no idea that their covers had already been blown.

He had managed to escape, purging the drugs in his system before his captors could get the suppression collar on him. Unfortunately, master and apprentice had already been separated and Xanatos had not been so lucky.

The two days he'd had to wait to go after his apprentice had easily been the longest days of his life. He'd known where the boy was being held - - but he could not breach their security on his own. With the ring being confirmed, he'd called in reinforcements to storm the complex before all the key players scattered to the wind. It was a large operation, which worked to his favor. It would take time to dismantle. Some of those involved had fled immediately, but others, those with a lot of credits invested were not so smart – unwilling to lose out on their investments. They had expected an attack, but not so soon. They were unprepared for the team of Jedi that came in under the cover of darkness, and completely undetected, to systematically shut down the entire Regula operation.

It was Mace who found Xanatos, comming Qui-Gon and asking him to come to level three of the complex, last door on the left. He entered the plush room to find Mace sitting on a bed next to his padawan. He approached slowly, taking in the décor of the room - the various implements of both pain and pleasure, the manacles, which thankfully were not in use, attached to head and footboards. His voice was strained as he continued to approach, calling the boy's name. When there was no response, he looked to Mace, seeing sympathy and concern written on the man's face. The knight rose, offering Qui-Gon his spot on the bed next to his padawan.

Sitting next to the boy, Qui-Gon once again took in the opulence of the room – his throat constricting as he revisited his own fears from the last two days, imagining what his apprentice may have had to endure. Though there were many kinds of slaves, Qui-Gon had known – and the lavish room had confirmed his worst fears, that his padawan was being prepped to sell as a pleasure slave. Force sensitive pleasure slaves were always in high demand, especially ones as young and striking as his apprentice.

His voice was hoarse yet gentle as he called to Xani a second time. Still, there was no response, no sign of recognition. Xanatos lay on his back, facing away from him, his eyes closed. Qui-Gon reached for him, turning the young face towards him. The touch was met with a small whimper, Xan's brow furrowing in obvious distress at the contact. The master lifted a heavy lid, troubled by the cloudy unfocused gaze.

He looked to Mace helplessly, his question obvious. His friend had already taken a sample of Xan's blood and was currently waiting for the results of whatever drug the boy had been given. Once determined, they should be able to counteract it.

Caressing Xani's face in an unconscious show of affection, his hand trembled – dismayed with the condition in which he'd found his apprentice. The boy was only partially dressed, wearing the inhibiting collar around his neck and a pair of soft black leather leggings. The pale skin glistened in the low lighting, showing evidence of body oil and a faint dusting of glitter. The eyes, still cloudy with drugs, had been smoothly lined and smudged with kohl. Yet most noticeable to the master was the numerous bruises and abrasions that covered the young body. His padawan had put up a fight. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He heard the small beep of Mace's hand held analyzer, and looked up as the knight approached the other side of the bed, placing a hypospray to Xan's throat. Mace then left, placing a supportive hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder as he did so.

Within seconds the anti-toxin began to purge the drug from Xani's system. He moaned softly, turning away from Qui-Gon – his movements sluggish and slow. Qui-Gon saw dull blue eyes open, but remained quiet as the body next to him stiffened – in obvious remembrance of his circumstances. The boy's face fell as he swallowed past a lump in his throat, closing eyes that were already beginning to water. He was as yet unaware of the presence next to him.

Why Qui-Gon waited so long to speak, he did not know. Perhaps it was too hard to talk past the lump in his own throat. "Xan," he barely recognized his own voice, so full of emotion.

The boy's eyes opened, widening as he turned to take in the man sitting next to him. Qui-Gon had only a second to register the shock and heartbreaking relief on Xan's face before the young man was in his arms, clutching him tightly. The lithe body noticeably trembled in an attempt to halt the release of emotion that was about to overwhelm them both.

At some point, Qui-Gon realized he was murmuring a steady stream of quiet reassurances. He had no idea what he was saying, only that he wanted to soothe, to comfort. Yet the more he tried, the more desperate his padawan seemed to become, pulling him tighter and tighter. He heard a hitch in the boy's breathing, felt the slim shoulders shake and waited for the first sob to break free. It didn't take long, and Qui-Gon held him solidly to his chest as the boy finally let go – feeling the warmth of tears begin to soak his tunics.

The fear, uncertainty and utter loss of control from the last two days all but consumed him, Xanatos able to shield nothing of his feelings due to the collar still clasped around his neck.

Qui-Gon himself found what comfort he could in just being able to hold the boy, pleased that he was being allowed to do so. Whatever had happened, whatever ordeal the boy had been through, they would deal with it together.

In time, the sobs abated, the weeping continuing in silence as Xanatos burrowed, if possible, even closer to his master – showing no indication of moving from the man's embrace. The hitching had returned and was now turning to intermittent sniffles as the body in his arms slowly began to go lax.

The emotional outpouring and recent events were taking their hold, the boy in his arms too exhausted to fight the pull of sleep. Qui-Gon sighed in relief as Xanatos finally succumbed, his hand going to the back of the lolling head on his shoulder.

For a long time, he just held Xanatos, perfectly content to not break the closeness between them. Soon however, the need to remove his apprentice from the place where he'd been held captive motivated him to move. He lowered the boy to the bed, quickly removing the offending collar. Then, with great care, he took his time to efficiently and gently clean the streaks of drying kohl and tears from the achingly young face. Removing his cloak, he tenderly nudged the boy into an even deeper sleep as he wrapped the boy from head to toe within its protective folds – a glimpse of bare feet the only skin to be seen as Qui-Gon carried his charge out and away from the complex.

As Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep, Qui-Gon came back to himself – the memory of Xanatos momentarily superimposing the image of the sleeping boy before him. Xanatos had been seventeen then, the same age Obi-Wan is now. In the stillness of the dawn, and the wake of Obi-Wan's nightmare not to mention his own reminiscing – he was suddenly struck by the youthful vulnerability before him. His feelings conflicted as the two time lines seemed to merge. I

A trip to the healers had confirmed what Xanatos had already told him. The boy had not been violated. Roughed up, yes. Teased and taunted in detail, and made to think he would be violated, yes – but not . . . he still found it hard to even think the word. While relieved at this information, Qui-Gon found the reasons behind it somewhat alarming.

A week later, the team home and recovering, Qui-Gon received a visit from Mace. Having decoded most of the available data from the Regula mainframe – evidence indicated possible interest in one force sensitive slave labeled only as X. The alarming part being that most of the inquiries were initiated at least two weeks before the Jedi had been captured. The buyer, listed only as P had paid in full for X on the day of his capture – and was scheduled to pick him up the very day the ring was disbanded. Unfortunately, no other information on buyer P had ever turned up.

A loud sound from the kitchen pulled him from his reverie and he slowly stood, stretching his large frame. Feeling a bit melancholy due to lack of sleep and revisiting old memories he took one last look at Obi-Wan as he left the room, once again pulling the covers over the protruding foot as he make his exit. He made it all the way to the kitchen before they were once again kicked free. Entering, he found Yoda rummaging through the icebox, pulling out various items, and noticed the table was set for three.

"Good morning, master." Qui-Gon said, being overly cheerful on purpose, no apparent trace of his lack of sleep showing.

Yoda merely grunted at him and continued on his way. Qui-Gon smiled affectionately, more than amused. Not many people knew that Master Yoda himself was among those to be considered NOT a morning person - - until he'd finished his morning cup of chai, that is. Growing serious, Qui-Gon settled himself at the table, pushing the place setting away.

"So, how long has this been going on?" He asked.

Yoda looked at him, but did not answer.

"This is the real reason you were here last night, isn't it?" Qui-Gon concluded, then, "I knew there was more to it."

"Your business it is not," Yoda said brusquely.

Qui-Gon however was not to be deterred. "You've been doing your best to make it my business since I stepped off that transport."

Yoda paused before speaking. "My decision, it is not. Up to another, it is."

"If you think I can help . . . ." He quietly started, but didn't get to finish.

"Yes! Think you can help, I do." Yoda cut him off, "but push him on this I will not. Decision must be his."

"Xanatos . ."

Yoda held his hand up to silence him. "Quiet you will be. Waking, the boy is. Your opinion of his master, he does not need to hear."

Reluctant, but agreeing, Qui-Gon remained silent. There would be time to talk later. Resigned, he watched Yoda reach into the warmer - and was horrified when he produced a tray full of the nasty little dry cakes the master was so fond of, the ones Qui-Gon had hoped to never again see once his days as a padawan had come to an end. His revulsion must have been evident.

"Eat, or do not. All there is." Yoda said as he slipped into his seat.

There was really no question - eat, he most certainly would not. Luckily, tea and juice were also available and he helped himself to some muju juice just as Obi-Wan came staggering out of the bedroom, still more asleep than awake. He was unsure how the boy would interpret his presence, or if his assistance last night would even be remembered. Still, he offered a reserved, "morning."

A grunt similar to the one Yoda gave him moments earlier greeted him. "Ah, another morning person I see." Both glared at his obvious amusement, before turning their attention to more important matters.

Yoda had already started in on one of the foul little pastries he loved so – and Qui-Gon watched incredulously as Obi-Wan reached for three of them, eating one in two bites as he reached for a jar of dark golden honey. The boy then began to smother the other two with the thick sticky syrup. Well, that's one way to eat them, he thought. One of Qui-Gon's brows rose, inching higher as the boy continued to pour the honey. Neither of his companions spoke a word – and seemed to prefer it that way.

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan finished off half of the available juice and his other two pastries in three bites, reaching for more. He was amazed at the interaction and ease between the two, the boy completely comfortable sitting here all rumpled and grumpy, breaking fast with the head of the Jedi Council - like it happened every day. When Obi-Wan reached for another cake, Qui-Gon almost laughed out loud at the concerned look on Yoda's face as the little master reached for seconds as well, before they all disappeared. Force, he'd forgotten just how much a growing boy could eat. A few minutes later, Obi-Wan quietly excused himself, grabbing one more pastry to eat on his way to the fresher.

"Likes my cooking, he does." Yoda was obviously pleased at the boy's appetite. Qui-Gon watching the boy as he left the room.

"So it appears." Qui-Gon said, still amazed at the whole exchange. Hearing the sonics start in the fresher, he thought that a shower sounded like a very good idea. He downed the rest of his juice, preparing to leave. He had just set his cup down when he heard the door slide open, turning in his seat as Xanatos entered the room – each man freezing at the sight of the other.

Xanatos had known of Qui-Gon's presence, having been informed by Yoda when he commed in the middle of the night after sensing his padawan's distress. What he hadn't been prepared for however, was to see the man still here and looking so comfortable in his kitchen when he arrived. The words he spoke were due more to surprise and were much harsher than intended. "What is he doing here?" He asked Yoda.

Qui-Gon's hackles immediately rose at the disrespectful tone, and the question being directed to Yoda – as if he himself were not worthy of asking. His softened perceptions, due to the earlier memory of a younger more vulnerable Xanatos, hardened once again – the cold feeling of betrayal once again taking hold.

"I was doing what you should have been doing." Qui-Gon said, rising to his full height, only an inch or two taller than Xanatos. His voice had not risen, but was noticeably condescending. He watched as temper briefly flared in cerulean eyes, and was noticeably harnessed.

"Your assistance with my padawan is appreciated." Obviously hard to say, and Qui-Gon was shocked by the admission. "However, it is no longer necessary. You may take your leave." The obvious dismissal grated against him, all but voiding the begrudging apology, in his eyes.

"Yes, I could do that," Qui-Gon stated coolly, "However, I have a few questions."

This time the fire that flared in azure eyes was not banked so easily. "Do you?" The smooth voice quietly controlled. "And what right is that of yours?"

When Obi-Wan appeared, stopping short at the tension filling the room, Qui-Gon stifled his response. He noted the shower had done wonders for the boy, though his eyes were still noticeably shadowed.

A silent exchange between master and apprentice was obvious, interrupted by the chime to the door. Giving a nod in the direction of the door, Xanatos excused his padawan. Qui-Gon watched the boy disappear around his master and into the other room.

"Look," He said, keeping his voice low. "There is obviously something going on here. I would like to help."

Yoda had remained quiet throughout the exchange, his expression now turning hopeful.

"We do not need your help."

"You, may not." Qui-Gon's words were clipped, turning cold at Xanatos' apparent stubbornness. "The same may not be true for Obi-Wan."

"None of this is your concern." His frustration at Qui-Gon's involvement obvious.

"It has been made my concern. I am involved now." Qui-Gon lowered his voice, upon hearing new voices in the other room. "Obi-Wan responded to me last night, he let me help him. Will you let him suffer, just to spite me?"

"You have no idea what I would or would not do for that boy - - nor is it any of your business." He'd had enough of this conversation. "Leave."

There seemed to be no reasoning with Xanatos. His temper was rising, and he was about to let it get the better of him.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Some disgust evident. "It's always about you."

"Get out," Calmly, any hurt Xanatos felt at the statement being immediately internalized.

Qui-Gon turned his attention on Yoda, who was looking disappointed with both of them. "I can help him, you know this. Will you not intervene?"

Yoda turned to Xanatos, focusing on the young master. "Believe I do, that help, Qui-Gon can." His voice was gentle, knowing how his words would affect the other man. "Do what's best for Obi-Wan, we must."

Xanatos was noticeably torn at Yoda's words. Of course he would do whatever was best for Obi-Wan – he just wasn't convinced that this was it. When he remained silent, Qui-Gon became impatient. "For once in your life, will you put someone else first!"

"Qui-Gon," Yoda said, trying to intervene before things got any more out of control.

"Force!" Qui-Gon went on unheeded, turning to grab his cloak as he continued to rant, his patience at an end. "All this for a boy you didn't even want in the first place?"

He had put his cloak on and adjusted it before he realized that it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He turned around, puzzled, then froze when he saw Obi-Wan standing there, a wounded look in his eyes. It wasn't until that moment that he fully realized what he had just said. Closing his eyes in regret, he missed the heated look that Yoda was giving him.

Opening them, he noticed that Xanatos had moved a step closer to Obi-Wan, reaching to firmly grasp the boy's chin. "You know better." Not a trace of his anger towards Qui-Gon was apparent, focused solely on the boy in front of him. "Any doubts I may have had were in myself. Never you."

"I know," A little shaky, then firmer more confident, "I know." They shared a long confirming look, Obi-Wan smiling tremulously as Xanatos released him. His gaze flickered uncertainly to Qui-Gon as he retrieved his datapad from the table and joined his friends - - who had heard the whole exchange. Garen put a supportive arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders as he turned, while Bant shot daggers at Qui-Gon.

 _I'm sorry_ Qui-Gon thought to himself as he watched the boy go. He was stunned when both Xanatos and Obi-Wan spun to face him, their expressions shocked. Everyone else managing to look confused at the new undercurrents filling the room.

Xanatos immediately shielded both himself and Obi-Wan, cutting off any further contact. Turning to his padawan, ignoring for now the alarm in wide changeable eyes, his voice booked no argument. "Class. Now." He felt Obi-Wan tentatively access the bond, seeking reassurance. While he returned as much assurance as he could, considering his shock, his response through the bond remained much the same. _Go to class_. He waited until the door slid closed behind the trio, turning to face Qui-Gon and Yoda expectantly.

"Just what in the Sith pits of hell happened here last night?"


	10. Chapter 10

Obi-Wan picked listlessly at his evening meal, chancing a glance across the table at his master. The meal had been quiet thus far, not awkward by any means, but the silence was beginning to get to him. They'd yet to discuss what had happened this morning with Qui-Gon, and his master's reticence in doing so was obvious, making him hesitant to broach the subject.

Xanatos chewed his food absently, going through the motions of eating, as he'd gone through the motions of his entire day. The initial shock he'd felt at Qui-Gon's once familiar baritone echoing so intimately through his mind had slowly subsided over the course of the day, leaving him slightly numb and outside of himself.

A bond. His padawan. His estranged master. And a spontaneous, unexplained bond. To say this new development alarmed him would be an understatement. The heated discussion that had taken place after Obi-Wan's departure this morning had continued well into the next hour, ending when he'd refused to lift the protective shield he'd placed around his padawan.

Qui-Gon had stormed out in frustration, wanting in typical Qui-Gon fashion to solve the dilemma at that very moment. Xanatos on the other hand wanted time to get his bearings and if possible gain some perspective on the situation. Unfortunately, there was as yet none to be gained.

Through the Force, Yoda had been able to thoroughly examine the bond, determining that it was indeed its own separate entity. A direct link between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Xanatos had suspected as much, painfully aware that his own bond with Qui-Gon had been irrevocably severed years ago.

A bond. He just couldn't seem to get beyond that thought. With Qui-Gon Jinn of all people! Xanatos stabbed a tuber with his fork, more forcefully than necessary - eliciting another unnoticed glance from Obi-Wan. His thoughts, as they had most of this day, turned inward once again.

It had been easy these past few years not to deal with his conflicted feelings regarding Qui-Gon. Not that he hadn't thought of the man. Qui-Gon had been too much a part of his life for far too long for him not to think of him from time to time. He was also perfectly aware that many of the things he taught his padawan and the techniques he used had been passed to him from his own master.

Sure, he'd managed to find a balance between Qui-Gon's teachings and his own unique perspective, yet the foundation of all he'd come to learn came from a man he once loved and trusted above all others.

Now that Qui-Gon was back in his life, he'd been forced to move beyond the hurt and anger that initially probed him whenever he thought of the man. He was resistant to it at first of course, being just as stubborn, if not more so than his legendary master.

It was within his innermost recesses however that he was forced to admit that he still cared for Jinn. It was a very fine line, that distinction between love and hate, and as of yet he could not distinguish where one ended and the other began.

Still, there was a part of him that felt so lost, so hurt by their recent encounters. He all but went on autopilot and had no control over what sometimes came out of his mouth. He marveled at the utter disrespect he heard in his own tone when he spoke to the man, while at the same time, a small part deep within him couldn't help but cringe at his callousness. It was a defense mechanism he knew. For him, it came down to hurt or be hurt. By striking out first it made him feel less vulnerable, less exposed. That wasn't the case of course, but since when was the inner workings of the human mind ever considered rational.

It was hard to admit, even to himself that he still loved the man – but he did. So many things happened on Telos, things that changed him forever. He'd long ago accepted and admitted his own mistakes and wrong doings from that infamous mission. Yes, he'd played his own role in the rift between he and his master – and could not fault the man for feeling betrayed. However, what he could not get beyond, what finally broke him, was that Qui-Gon had left him. Left him alone to face . . . .

Xanatos pushed his plate away and stood, forcing away the past and refocusing on the present. He was distracted, and he knew it. Giving Obi-Wan a small apologetic glance, he turned away, moving towards the balcony. The boy was worried, that much was obvious. So was he.

While he tended to strike a balance between both the living and unifying Force, his foreseeings tended to be rather short term and concentrated more on feelings rather than visions. Something was coming, and the foreboding in the pit of his stomach told him that whatever it was – it would not be good.

He closed his eyes and did his best to release his fear into the Force. For now, it was time to deal with this new development. The bond between his former master and his young padawan.

He took his time finding his center, falling into a light, but brief meditation - - aware that Obi-Wan now stood behind him, patiently waiting for the opportunity to speak. Xanatos knew the boy had questions and was feeling uncertain. However, he had to clear his own mind before he could objectively discuss all that was happening. When he was ready he turned to face the boy, his expression and posture immediately becoming more approachable.

"Master?" Obi-Wan seemed relieved at finally being able to speak. "Are you upset with me?"

Sensing that Obi-Wan was referring to what had happened this morning and not his contemplative silence, he couldn't help but feel contrite for making his padawan wait so long for this discussion.

His answering smile was a bit sad. Obi-Wan had always been a little too willing to accept responsibility for things that were beyond his control.

"No. I'm not upset with you." His voice was soft and held none of the emotional upheaval he'd been plagued with most of the day. "Why would I be?"

When Obi-Wan didn't answer right away, Xanatos continued for him. "..for forming a bond with someone other than myself perhaps?"

Obi-Wan remained silent, but his eyes, always so expressive affirmed this to be his inner conflict.

Xanatos relaxed against the balcony rail behind him, inviting Obi-Wan to join him. He was quiet for a moment as his padawan approached, enjoying the slight breeze from the evening traffic lanes.

Resting his hands a top the rail, Obi-Wan did not turn to face his master – but continued to gaze upon the sparkling metropolis spread before him. He knew that he hadn't initiated the bond with Master Jinn, he wasn't even sure how he'd even go about doing such a thing if he wanted to. Still, he couldn't help but feel that he was in some way responsible.

"You're not," Xanatos firmly interrupted his thoughts, then softer, "you've done nothing wrong."

He was quick to note that his words didn't do much to ease the tension in his padawan. Grateful for the time he'd taken to center, Xanatos moved away from the rail. He stepped behind his apprentice, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders as he spoke.

"Everything has its purpose. We must trust in the Force."

Obi-Wan made to turn, wanting to see his master's face, his doubt easily transferring through the training bond.

Xanatos sighed, holding the youth's shoulders firm to prevent him from turning around.

"Okay," his tone was exasperated. "So Qui-Gon Jinn is NOT the person I would have chosen for you to bond with. There. I said it." A small but noticeable attempt to lighten the mood.

Obi-Wan smiled, as was intended. Xanatos not allowing any bitterness he felt for Qui-Gon to creep into his tone.

"However," Xanatos added, once again serious. "Bonds simply do not form for no reason."

The words seemed to hang over them as both continued to silently watch the flow of never-ending activity beyond the Temple walls. Through their open link, Xanatos could still feel the uncertainty that Obi-Wan wrestled with. Recognizing that it was due more to the strained relationship between he and Qui-Gon than the actual bond itself.

"We must trust in the Force," Xanatos repeated his earlier words. "In time, its purpose will be revealed."

His own struggle in doing so was evident, the bond between them hiding none of their thoughts or feelings. Yet his belief in the words spoken was strong, bolstering Obi-Wan's confidence as well.

The elder Jedi's thoughts turned to the nightmares his padawan was currently being plagued with – and the words that Qui-Gon had spoken earlier. Obi-Wan had let him in, had let Qui-Gon help him and comfort him. Not even Yoda had managed that in the previous months. His padawan's inability to remember even the smallest detail from his dreams continued to worry him, and on more than one occasion he had to wonder if it was simply that the boy didn't want to remember. In either case, things could not continue as is.

"As much as I hate to admit it," an understatement to say the least, "we may need Qui-Gon's help." Xanatos let his concern over the boy's nightmares permeate his words.

Silence.

There was a stillness to the bond, noticeable as Obi-wan finally spoke. "We WILL need him." Xanatos froze at the flat certainty in the young voice, feeling a growing distance in the link between them. He knew that if he could see the boy's eyes they would be glazed and unfocused.

He eased his grip on the youth's shoulders, fighting the urge to squeeze tighter at Obi-Wan's words. His thumbs started a light circular massage, and he remained silent so as not to distract Obi-Wan from the vision that so suddenly gripped him.

"We will both need him." The thought coalesced out of nowhere, Obi-Wan's voice sounding oddly detached and automated to his own ears.

"What do you see?" Xan's voice low and soothing.

A borage of images, too fast for words to keep up with, assaulted him. He faltered slightly in his attempt to respond, "I . . . he . ." The images themselves were confusing, and he felt a bit helpless under the onslaught.

"Easy," calming voice, the master moving closer. "Just let it come."

The images continued to come in a blur, and he knew he would have to meditate on them later – so he did as his master said and just let them come.

He gasped, startled by a particular image. Mentally, he reached for it, but he may as well been grasping for smoke. It swirled just out of reach, dissipating before his eyes as he was simultaneously thrust back into the present. He would have staggered backwards were it not for his master's firm grip on his shoulders.

"Breathe," he heard Xanatos say. He felt disoriented and out of sorts and let himself be partially supported by the weight behind him. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, doing his best to find his center and hold on to what images he could. His master was remaining silent, but he could feel the man's curiosity and desire to question him.

Most of what he saw, he didn't yet understand - - and hoped that meditation on the whirl of images would be enlightening. He did however glean certain knowledge of events that in all probability would come to pass.

Qui-Gon Jinn was going to become a very important person in his life. He saw very clearly that the man was a prominent figure in his future. He also knew with certainty, that the path he was currently on was about to be forever changed. He was coming to a fork in the road of his destiny. A choice will have to be made – only one path can be chosen.

Unfortunately, he also got the distinct impression that he would have no control over that choice. Someone else would make it for him.

"What did you see?" Xanatos sounded concerned.

There was so much, but if he had to sum it up in one word, it would be, "change."

He felt Xanatos' acceptance of that answer, yet a more detailed one was expected to be forthcoming.

"I . ." Taking on all of his weight again, Obi-Wan turned to face his master. "I think I need to meditate."

Xanatos watched him closely for a moment, certain that something was amiss with the boy. However, he knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that the boy would only talk to him when he was ready. He wanted to push, but in the end he only nodded.

"Very well." It was a common thing to do. Visions could often be unclear or jumbled, requiring the insight that only guided meditation could provide. "Take your shower, get comfortable." Xanatos said, knowing Obi-Wan had a preference to meditate in his soft worn workout clothes. "I'll get the mats."

Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. He wanted to meditate NOW. The master ignored the pout the boy probably wasn't even aware of. "It will help you center." A small smile, "go."

He watched the boy go, his mind wrapping obsessively around that one word.

_Change._

XIXIXI

 

Choosing water this time over the sonics, Obi-Wan set the temperature to the hottest setting he could stand. Stepping under the spray, he let the liquid heat infuse his body, hoping to quell the inner chill that was beginning to spread within him.

Bracing one hand against the cool tile, he dropped his head forward – letting the hot spray pound into the back of his neck. It felt too good, and he couldn't help the small sound of pleasure that escaped him. The sound so at odds with the torment he was beginning to feel.

One image from his vision taunted him. He couldn't be sure, it was there and gone so quickly, but he was fairly certain the image that had troubled him was a funeral pyre. But that could mean anything. It could be symbolic. It didn't have to mean that someone actually died, it could be a symbolic death. But what did that mean?

He had clearly seen Qui-Gon, himself, and his . . . something had been different, but yes, he had seen his master as well. Realizing all this speculation was doing the exact opposite of helping him center, he let it go with effort. He focused instead on the rivulets of water caressing his skin and the zesty scent of jhavani spice as he shampooed his hair.

XIXIXI

 

Two days later, Qui-Gon Jinn was steadily making his way through the Temple towards Tahl's quarters. He'd not seen Obi-Wan or Xanatos at all, and thought it best that it remain so – for the time being. Though it did bother him that he'd seen very little of Master Yoda as well, the green master being surprisingly obtuse about the potential bond that had formed between he and young Kenobi.

Yoda had done little more than confirm that the bond appeared to be separate and independent of the one he had shared with Xanatos. He suspected the master was just as startled and confused by this development as he was.

Like they had so many times the past two days, Qui-Gon's thoughts turned to Obi-Wan. The young man he currently shared a bond with. It had frightened him at first, as was obvious in the way he lashed out at Xanatos in the man's kitchen. He had not wanted or gone looking to form a bond, and it had crossed his mind to sever the fledging bond then and there. As a master, he certainly had the knowledge and ability to do so, yet in the end he didn't - fearing it would in some way end up harming Obi-Wan.

Guiltily, his mind returned to the moment when he severed the bond between he and Xanatos. He'd shared no such concern for his young betrayer, tearing even the roots of the bond from his mind. He knew that it had probably caused some pain for Xanatos, but at the time, had considered it justifiable – at least, that is what he told himself.

He was doubtful that Yoda would have allowed him to do such a thing anyways. Usually the dissolving of a bond was to be done in the presence of a soul healer. And if he was honest with himself, which distance from the situation and many hours of meditation had allowed him to be, there was something about the muted presence in the back of his mind that just felt – right.

The fleeting contact he'd felt before Xanatos shielded the boy had been - - incredible. It had been so long since he'd last felt such an intimate connection with another. He'd easily felt the boys rolling emotions and shock at his presence. He'd sensed Xan's as well, though not nearly as distinct. Qui-Gon suspected that was due to the training bond that had been wide open between the two.

Brief though that contact had been, Qui-Gon could not ignore nor deny the momentary glimpse he'd seen into master and apprentice. Their connection was undeniably deep, their loyalty to each other unwavering – and the stab of fear each felt at the possibility of another coming between them was razor-sharp.

Still, it was amazing to feel all that wordless sharing of emotions – Qui-Gon well aware that he had been exposed to them as well. The only difference being that his emotions were limited to surface emotions resulting from that particular encounter. His innermost thoughts and feelings were hidden away, as they always were. Since Xanatos' betrayal he'd guarded himself closely, and allowed no one beyond the wall he'd built around his heart. So while master and student were caught unaware and open to each other, his shock was not nearly as palpable.

Not fair really, but it did offer him further insight into their relationship. Try as he may, and he really did try, Qui-Gon could find no trace of collusion or darkness within his former apprentice. The bond between the two appeared to be pure and untainted. The only malevolent feeling he sensed from Xanatos, if you could call it that, was just before Qui-Gon's contact with the boy was cut off. And then, it was more a feeling of wanting to protect the young one – and himself, from Qui-Gon.

This new insight into Xanatos was a bit unsettling and required much more meditation. Still, he was not without compassion. He could not help but feel for the two, and on some level want to assuage their fears. Unfortunately, that would involve a level of contact that he felt none of them were quite ready for yet.

As he made his way into the Master's Tower the corridors became more crowded and he retreated to the side as a group of young padawans bustled their way past him.

Belatedly, he realized that today was a free day. The one day out of the eight day week the young ones on quarter rotation were allowed down time from their studies.

As he entered the atrium to approach the lifts, he saw a small group of padawans just off to the side. Had he not recognized the young mon-calamari, he may have not taken notice of the group at all due to the large number of padawans buzzing about.

Bant hadn't seen him at all thus far, so he stood unobtrusively by the lifts, easily within earshot of their conversation.

"You're sure?" Obi-Wan asked her. Qui-Gon could make out both Obi-Wan and Garen as he peered around the potted gi'etta tree. The enthusiasm in the young man's voice was unmistakable and mirrored in both his face and Garen's.

Bant looked back and forth between her friends, her voice unenthused as she answered with, "Quite."

"You have no idea what you're missing," Garen said.

"Oh yes," She said, unmoved. "I do."

Garen and Obi-Wan looked at each other, unable to fathom why one would want to miss such a thing.

"But Bant," Garen continued. "it's only once a year. And it's the first time in four years they've hosted the expo on Couruscant."

"Really?" Bant asked, obviously feigning interest.

Qui-Gon smiled, amused. He assumed the trio was discussing the personal transport expo that was currently on planet for a ten day. He'd seen various holo posters around the Temple advertising the event.

Obi-Wan, apparently missing his friend's sarcasm continued, "They're showcasing the Z34 Lexitor Elite driven by Nasr Zimst in last years IRL" It was common knowledge that Zimst had broken every planetside speed record during last years Interplanetary Racing League finals on Malastare – well, common knowledge in his circles anyways.

Garen nodded enthusiastically, "The original. Not a replica." Then as if this may sweeten the deal and change Bant's mind, he added, "it's got a 97-X superior sub-light engine."

"Ooooooh," Bant cooed.

Qui-Gon had to wonder if the young lady was always so sardonic. He also had to wonder if the padawan in question had any idea that he was joining her and her master for evening meal.

"As tempting as that sounds," Bant continued, "I would rather make an appointment with Healer Shen and have my molars removed. All of them."

"Bant," Obi-Wan sounded as if he were trying to spare her feelings. "You don't have molars."

Both Qui-Gon and Bant looked to the young man to gauge his expression, finding no outward trace of sarcasm. Qui-Gon noted that Garen's lips had curled into an indulgent smile.

"Yes Obi, I know that."

Figuring this was as good a time as any, Qui-Gon stepped around the tree, halting further discussion. All three padawans regarded him warily.

"Hello," Qui-Gon addressed them all, then focused on Obi-Wan. "Could I speak with you for a moment Padawan Kenobi?"

"There's nothing you can say to him that you can't discuss in front of us." Bant said boldly, ignoring the incredulous look from her two friends at her disrespect to Qui-Gon.

Garen cleared his throat, glancing at Obi-Wan in apology for Bant's behavior as he hustled her just out of earshot.

"I don't want to keep you." Qui-Gon started, a bit at a loss as to what to say now that he'd approached the young man. "I . . .I just wanted to apologize. I never meant for you to end up in the middle of this."

Obi-Wan studied him, trying to gauge his sincerity. He nodded when he sensed the truth in Qui-Gon's words, though he remained silent.

Qui-Gon found himself reminded of their first meeting and the open friendly expression the boy had graced him with. He almost found himself wishing he could go back and start over with the young one again.

He smiled before the silence could become awkward, deciding to let Obi-Wan off the hook. "Well. That's really all I wanted to say. Enjoy your free day."

Obi-Wan remembered the gentle imposing man he'd first met in the corridor. He'd liked the big guy immediately. He still did, and was heartened by the knowledge from his vision – knowing that Qui-Gon would become very important to him. Totally unconscious of the effect of his action, he smiled a little in return – despite the current tension between this man and his master.

Qui-Gon's smile widened at the guarded smile, his mood dramatically improving as he moved back towards the lifts. He patently ignored the hushed conversation that took place between the three friends, undoubtedly about him. As the lift doors opened before him, he stopped his forward stride. Turning once again to the trio, he felt a tiny fissure of unease as watched the two boys walk away. They turned at the exit, waving to Bant, their bubbling excitement over the upcoming event once again evident. Obi-Wan's smile was reflected in his eyes, and Qui-Gon was surprised when changeable eyes fleetingly, but happily met his.

Some hours later Qui-Gon, Tahl, and Bant made their way to the dining hall, Bant lagging sullenly behind. Thankfully, the young padawan's manners were dramatically improved in her master's presence. Unfortunately, Tahl's cooking had not improved at all since he'd last suffered her ill attempt at domestic cooking nine years ago.

He had to admit, she'd given a valiant effort though. They'd all actually sat down the table and attempted to cut into the blackened roasted goark before Bant politely suggested they head for the commissary.

At this hour, the crowd in the dining hall was minimum. Once all three had their trays, Tahl led the group to a nearby table. Qui-Gon settled himself and took a sip of his tea. It was as he was placing his cup back on his tray that he took note of the penetrating gaze from 5 tables away. He met Xan's stare evenly, and after a moment both silently agreed to ignore the other and turned back to their companions.

He hated the dining hall, but for Tahl's sake he tried to enjoy himself – genuinely grateful for any time spent with her. They reminisced about their youthful days in the crèche and their first missions as padawans, Qui-Gon well aware that Tahl was doing her best to keep him occupied – to keep him from what she referred to as 'brooding'. He tried including Bant in the conversation several times, to no avail. Her responses were polite enough, but often were limited to one or two words. At this point in the meal, he was quite sure he'd never win the young padawan over.

A disturbance in the hall coincided with a slight prickle of unease within him. He looked up to find Xanatos and another knight he was unfamiliar with standing ready, their sabers drawn but not ignited. The two knights regarded each other solemnly across the room, both confirming a dreadful understanding.

They quickly rushed from the hall, leaving a wake of silent and concerned colleagues behind. The worried look on Bant's face was echoed on Tahl's as they turned to each other. A sinking feeling told him with certainty that the other knight could be none other than young Garen's master. Reflexively, his mind flashed to the image of Obi-Wan and Garen as they made their exit earlier in the day, both so charmingly excited and animated over the upcoming event. In his mind's eye he watched them go, disappearing out of his sight – and remembered with renewed clarity his brief moment of trepidation over their departure.


	11. Chapter 11

He'd gone without sleep before. Could actually go days without it, if he had to. It was never a pleasurable experience however. He, along with close to a hundred other Jedi had spent the entire night and the better part of today scouring the city for any trace of the missing padawans. There was none to be found.

Entering darkened empty quarters, Qui-Gon shed his cloak, depositing it on its customary hook next to the door. Twenty-eight hours. Over a full day's cycle since Garen and Obi-Wan ventured out into the city – and disappeared.

He tried not to dwell on the implications of lost time, yet his rational mind would not let it go. The more time that went by usually meant a lesser chance that the two boys would be located in good health, if at all.

He didn't appear to be hurrying, but anyone who knew him would see the purpose in each measured movement. A ration bar on the way to the fresher. A quick shower, more to refresh than to cleanse. A change of tunics, and he was heading back out into the Temple. That he would rejoin the search went without saying. Yet one other stop was on his agenda.

As he made his way through the maze of corridors and lifts towards Xan's quarters, his mind was drawn back to the disturbance in the dining hall. Many within the Temple had sensed the disturbance, yet were unaware of its source. It did not take long for word to spread of the missing friends – and less than one hour after two training bonds were abruptly silenced, several teams of Jedi were spreading outward, into the heart of the city.

It was doubtful he'd forget the look on his former padawan's face as both he and Master Rowan, young Garen's mentor, were told that they would not be participating in the search. It was standard procedure really, not that such a thing happened often. Yet in the day and age where just about every imaginable technological advance abounded – it was still very possible for comms to jam and power sources to be depleted. So it had been decided that any possible attempt at communication should be received within temple confines — where reception was sure to be clear and if possible, tracing procedures could be implemented. Therefore, both young masters were to be sequestered to their own respective quarters – their private comm terminals cleared and ready for any incoming signals.

The search area was based on the boy's itinerary and to start would cover eight city cubits and three levels. This was the area from the Temple to the Expo, from the Expo to Dex's - where the boy's had planned to dine, and back to the Temple. Mace had questioned both Xanatos and Rowan and was designated search coordinator, dividing the teams up per level and location.

Qui-Gon was part of the Expo team, along with Tahl and Bant. As they hastened to leave, Qui-Gon paused as Xanatos approached him purposefully. Tahl and Bant discreetly withdrew, allowing the two a modicum of privacy. It was obvious Xanatos wanted to say something, but was struggling with the words. So many emotions in the gaze that regarded him. Desperation. Urgency. Gratitude. Finally, the man seemed to find his voice.

"Find him . . . please." A soft plea, implying a level of trust he'd long ago lost sight of. All that was between them was not forgotten, but in light of the current crisis – a tentative, if silent truce was being offered.

There was nothing he could say, no promise he could make. Yet the determination in his eyes was evident as he gave a sharp nod, indicating that he would indeed do all that was in his power to bring Obi-Wan back.

He turned away then, but not before he caught the guarded look of appreciation on Xan's face. The look that said, I know you're not doing this for me - - but I'm grateful nonetheless. A faint tug at his heart surprised him. He faltered momentarily, as he walked away. Kept going with effort, the intense and sudden urge already slipping away. The urge that would have him turning around to cup that guarded yet vulnerable face, wanting from somewhere deep within him to say . . . .

Don't you know, that even now there is a part of me that would do anything for you?

The voice that had lain dormant for years, was once again stirring. As for now, his preoccupation in regards to the search was enough to allow him the illusion of silencing it. So while the temptation was born between one heartbeat and the next, it died just as quickly.

The lift doors opened, breaking him from his reverie.

He continued on his way, passing Tahl's quarters as he rounded the final corner to Xan's apartment. Unlike his first visit here, he did not hesitate as he rang the buzzer.

Xanatos watched the flow of traffic before him with a mild detached interest. Absently, he noted the distant tinge of twilight on the horizon as another night approached. He didn't know if he could stand another night of waiting, of not knowing. Most of his vigil had been kept here, on the balcony. As if watching the activity outside the Temple walls could somehow make him feel as if he were part of the ongoing search.

He heard a siren. Watched as a CSF patrol pulled over a weaving speeder. Marveled, not for the first time, how it was that life could just continue around him as if there were nothing wrong.

Over the course of what would undoubtedly be the worst night of his life, the so-called real world had long since become entirely surreal. Life was a holovid that he could see and hear, but was not part of. His entire world had come down to these four walls, and with each passing hour they became smaller and smaller – closing in just a little bit more.

He couldn't recall a time when these rooms had been so utterly quiet. Surely they must have been, but never had he been so hyper aware of that silence. Perhaps that was another reason he kept to the balcony. The grating noise of the city assured him that life did go on, yet kept him separate from those concerned and well-meaning voices that would occasionally penetrate his self imposed isolation. He avoided them, their sympathies and consolations. Theirs was not the voice he longed to hear. They were not the person whose mere presence brightened these empty rooms. They – were not him.

When he once again had the proper frame of mind, he would have to thank Master Yoda. The tiny master had stayed with him the whole night through, keeping the few visitors at bay. They spoke very little, and he was left alone, per his wishes. Yoda was merely there, and was the strong and comforting presence he needed to keep it together.

He closed his eyes, feelings of helplessness once again threatening to consume him. How is it that he could be standing here? Feeling the warmth of the fading sun on his face, while force knows what was happening to his padawan. Out of habit, he tried probing the training bond - again. Nothing. It was completely and thoroughly blocked. He could get absolutely no sense of his padawan's well-being.

Images that were all too easily supplied by his overactive imagination began to taunt him. Obi-Wan - bleeding, hurt, suffering, being tortured in ways that one so young should never have to endure. Suddenly it was just too much. He turned abruptly, away from the city and away from the images in his mind. A startled gasp escaped him when he met broad shoulders and strong arms reached to steady him as he opened his eyes.

Qui-Gon's concerned and understanding gaze regarded him. Xanatos stood motionless, in shock. He'd been caught completely unaware. Quickly, he tried to school his features into the neutral mask befitting a Jedi, and found it difficult to do so. He knew that he looked vulnerable, needy even, feeling completely exposed to the man before him.

He pulled away, thankful that Qui-Gon did not seem willing take advantage of his moment of weakness, remaining silent and giving him the time needed to compose himself. It took much longer than he would have liked.

"How are you holding up?" The smooth quiet voice held none of the edge from previous encounters, and was almost comforting. It was so unexpected and so obviously sincere that he didn't know what to think, let alone trust himself to speak. So he didn't.

When he didn't respond, Qui-Gon smiled gently in understanding. It was a kindness he didn't expect, making him slightly uncomfortable. In an attempt to avoid what could become an awkward moment Qui-Gon suggested they move from the balcony to the common room. It was there that Xanatos seemed to finally find his voice.

"What have you found?" he asked.

"Nothing we didn't already know I'm afraid." Qui-Gon answered honestly. "Several eye witnesses place them at the expo, a few saw them leaving. They never made it to Dex's."

Both Xanatos and Master Yoda did not outwardly show their disappointment, and to anyone other than Qui-Gon who knew them both so well – it may not have been evident at all.

"We still have several teams searching on various levels," Qui-Gon continued positively. "It's only a matter of time before we find something."

His optimism was evident, but he couldn't help but feel the emptiness of the words as he realized that the other two Jedi in the room were just as aware of the time that had already slipped by – and the possible consequences that it could bring.

"Yes. Yes. Find them we will." Yoda chimed in. "lose hope, we will not." The little master sounded so sure – and he so wanted to believe.

He tried to bolster some enthusiasm, but the pretense was more effort than he could expend at the moment. He appreciated their efforts, and he sincerely hoped that it showed. Yet the pull of the balcony was once again too much, and he slowly and silently he withdrew.

Qui-Gon watched him go. Xanatos had the look of a man who was lost in a dream – one he expected to wake up from at any moment. A sudden urge to comfort flared brightly to life, and he took a step forward, stopping short as his comm signaled an incoming call. Reaching for the device he flipped it open, his tone all business.

"Jinn."

"Master Jinn? This is Lieutenant Baylen from the Zhulie District – Sector 324. You contacted me about some missing padawans?"

"Yes Lieutenant," It was always beneficial to notify the local authorities. In most cases they would not expend any manpower to assist the Order – as the Jedi usually took care of their own, however at the very least they would apprise their field operatives of pertinent circumstances.

"What can I do for you?" Qui-Gon asked, noting that Xanatos had paused and was listening to the transmission.

"One of my patrols came across an unidentified body on sub level 6. Thought you might want to send someone over to check it out."

He kicked himself mentally as Xanatos paled ever so slightly. He should have taken the call privately.

"That shouldn't be necessary. The holos I transmitted last evening would allow you to make an ID." Qui-Gon said, irritated that the call had even been made – doubtful that it had anything to do with the missing boys.

"Yes. Normally they would. However," the lieutenant cleared his throat. "It looks like the boy took quite a beating. There was extensive damage done to the head and neck area."

Qui-Gon paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he asked his next question. "And what makes you think it may be one of ours?"

"Height and weight estimation fits that of the smaller padawan's description. Hair color is also a close match." The lieutenant gave the final punch with his next statement. "And . . . the body was wrapped in a brown cloak. Looks to be one of your standard issue garments."

"Thank you, lieutenant." Qui-Gon said somberly. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He ended the transmission and returned the device to his utility belt.

Xanatos turned to face him. Qui-Gon knowing what the man was going to say, even as the words left his mouth.

"I'm going with you."

He opened his mouth to object, stopping when Xanatos repeated his words more forcefully.

"I'm going with you."

He immediately moved past Qui-Gon and donned his cloak to reiterate his point. He regarded the older man challengingly, almost daring Qui-Gon to deny him. He slowly relaxed as he realized that Qui-Gon had no such intentions.

Then, to Qui-Gon's surprise, Xanatos turned his attention to Master Yoda. He dropped to one knee before the tiny master, the dark fabric of his cloak pooling around him. There was genuine respect and humility in the gesture – and not for the first time Qui-Gon found himself curious as to what changes brought about this seemingly mutual affection between the two. He could remember a time when they merely tolerated each other's presence for his benefit.

"You've done so much for me master, yet there is more I must ask of you." Soft, quiet voice that Qui-Gon had to strain to hear.

"Would that there be more, that do for you I could, young one. No need to ask is there." Yoda's hands rested atop his gimer stick as he gazed into the troubled face before him. "Go. Stay here I will."

Xanatos dipped his chin, a sweep of ebony lashes revealing his gratitude. Rising, he met Qui-Gon's gaze squarely, then turned and swept from the room. Qui-Gon shared his patented 'this is not a good idea' look with Yoda as he moved to follow, catching up with the other man at the lifts.

There was a subdued, but not uncomfortable silence between them as they left the Temple and traversed the city. Qui-Gon very aware that each of Xan's steps matched his own, and that they traveled shoulder to shoulder – as equals.

Though he tried not to let it, echoes of times past – of the boy who had for so long walked under his protection threatened to unbalance him. The gap between the often arrogant boy whom he'd loved as a son and the intense young Jedi next to him was hard to bridge. There was a big piece of the puzzle missing, one that he had a hard time reconciling. This was not the same person he'd left laying at his feet on Telos – the betrayer he'd walked away from.

Discreetly, he glanced at Xanatos out of the corner of his eye – wondering if perhaps the young man was similarly affected. The tight set of the noble jaw told him all he needed to know. When Xanatos was very young, he had a terribly grating habit of grinding his teeth whenever he was anxious or upset. Over time, Qui-Gon had managed to rid the boy of that particularly irritating habit, however the tightening of that strong jaw to the point of clenching his teeth had remained as a tell tale sign that the boy was troubled.

They descended another two levels and boarded the public transport tube that would take them to the Zhulie District. Xanatos was clearly preoccupied and Qui-Gon thought it best to keep his silence. Their encounters thus far had been volatile at best, and he did not want to take the chance of upsetting the younger man. He knew from the brief glimpse into their bond how much Xanatos cared for Obi-Wan, and could easily empathize with the current anguish the man was experiencing.

The trip took only moments and they made their exit, taking a communal lift to an upper lever. The precinct was easily visible in the distance. The urgency in Xan's steps seemed to bleed away – his steps slowing imperceptibly. Qui-Gon pretended not to notice, keeping the pace Xanatos set.

The officer on duty appeared to be expecting them – or at least him, as he was personally addressed. "Master Jinn?" He asked, looking back and forth between them. At Qui-Gon's nod, the man continued.

"Lieutenant Baylen is waiting for you." He directed the two Jedi to the lifts. "Take the lower lift to level 4." The man handed them a data card. "You'll need this pass to enter the morgue. Just follow the red arrows as you exit the lifts. The lieutenant will meet you there."

A polite thank you and they were on their way. Qui-Gon noting that Xanatos had gotten even quieter, if possible, as they took the lift down. The urge was there again, to comfort, to say a well-meaning word, to possibly place a reassuring hand on a tense shoulder. It came so naturally to him, and if it were anyone other than the man before him – he would have done so without thinking.

He chastised himself for that hesitation as Xanaots closed his eyes, taking a measured breath. Shields were still firmly in place, however he could feel the maelstrom of simmering emotions just beneath the surface.

Decision made, he reached out to offer what reassurance he could. It was then of course that the lift doors chose to open and the moment was lost. They followed the red arrows clearly marked on the floor through two security checkpoints, using the data card provided to gain entrance. Lieutenant Baylen greeted them as the second set of doors slid open. Introductions were made, and Xanatos seemed comfortable in letting Qui-Gon handle the course of the conversation.

"As I told you, the body was damaged due to a pretty vicious beating. However," the lieutenant reached beneath the counter and pulled out a neatly folded, but obviously worn brown cloak. "When my officer found him, he was all but gift wrapped in this." With a shake, the material unfolded to its full length. It could have belonged to anyone, but it didn't. It belonged to Obi-Wan.

A slight tremor in the Force was the only indication of shock Qui-Gon felt from Xanatos. Pale as a ghost, the young master moved forward to claim the item, taking it and holding it almost reverently. Though very little emotion had yet to be revealed, thirty years in the field easily alerted the lieutenant to the man's concealed anguish.

Qui-Gon approached Xanatos carefully, sensing shields that were beginning to falter. "It's his. It's Obi-Wan's." A quiet disbelieving whisper. Pained blue orbs slowly rose to meet his – their depths only now beginning to comprehend that the body in the next room could actually belong to the young man he was sworn to protect.

Qui-Gon himself was feeling an unexpected sorrow. He'd not expected this at all. This was not how this was supposed to end, not here, not like this. He supposed he could be in denial, but he couldn't help but feel that something was not right. That he was missing something.

Lieutenant Baylen interrupted his musings. "I only need one of you to identify the body." The man was obviously not without compassion, however this was his business and he conducted himself with a detached air that was quite unsettling. He moved to a set of doors and stood waiting.

Qui-Gon studied Xanatos, who was still very focused on the garment he held. When he did look up, his expression was lost and held no determination. However, the man was obviously prepared to do his duty and stepped forward intending to do so. He paused as a large, but warm hand settled firmly on his chest, halting his progress. He looked questioningly to Qui-Gon, who spoke only two words.

"Let me."

It was not a question. The cerulean eyes were conflicted. Hope was still warring with doubt, but it was quickly losing ground. A moment's hesitation, and Xanatos reluctantly conceded with the following words. "It's not him. I would know." His voice was sure, belying the uncertainty that lingered in the shadows of his gaze. "I would know." He repeated for emphasis Wouldn't I? An anguished thought that the other heard as plain as if it had been spoken.

Qui-Gon's compassion was evident, and this time he did not hesitate to offer what small comfort he could. It would be over soon, and they would know one way or the other. He surprised himself as both hands cupped a suddenly shocked and once beloved face. "I believe you would." His hands were removed just as quickly, leaving only a faint heat impression to indicate that they were ever there at all. He felt mild confusion at his actions from the man, but it was understandably overshadowed by more pertinent circumstances.

Choosing not to analyze his own feelings, he quickly turned to follow Lieutenant Baylen into the adjoining room. He stopped short at the sight of the covered body on the slab in the center of the room. A quick Force probe reassured him, and he stepped forward confidently.

All force sensitive beings have a unique force signature. It lingers, albeit faintly – even after death. Though he had not known Obi-Wan long, he had become acquainted to the boy's very distinct signature. He was quite sure the deceased individual before him was not Obi-Wan, and in fact – had not been force sensitive at all.

Still, to be absolutely certain, there was one other thing he felt compelled to check. He was noticeably appalled as the body was revealed, closing his eyes briefly. Such needless violence. He took a moment to silently grieve for the young loss of life.

Then, carefully he reached to pull back a bruised and puffy eyelid. It was slightly stiff, but gave way enough for him to determine the boy's eye color. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and stepped back, his relief evident. Not the changeable eyes that had so captivated him upon their first meeting.

"Not yours?" Baylen asked, somewhat surprised.

Thanking the Force silently, Qui-Gon answered, "No." It was all he could say, and he quickly headed back to the other room, wanting to put an end to whatever agony Xanatos was experiencing. As he entered, Xan quickly turned to him, stopping short at the very small but evident smile on his face. It took several seconds for it to permeate, but when it finally sunk in it was as if all the air left the man and he relaxed against the wall behind him. The sense of relief was overwhelming. He took short panting breaths, trying to reconcile reality with what he'd been preparing for. Unable to speak, his eyes sought Qui-Gon's for confirmation.

"It's not him." He watched as Xan's eyes slid closed, felt the influx of emotions that threatened to fracture overly stressed shields.

"You have considered," Lieutenant Baylen interrupted as tactfully as possible, "that someone wanted you to think that this was one of your missing students?"

Yes, he was just thinking that very thing. "I have." Was all he said, turning his attention back to Xanatos. He gave the man a moment to pull himself together before speaking.

"Someone went through a lot of trouble to set this up, Xan. Whoever is behind this wanted you to believe that this was Obi-Wan." Until now they were unable to ascertain if the foul play surrounding Garen and Obi-Wan disappearance was random - against the Jedi in general or if there was some kind of personal vendetta involved. Now they knew. "Do you have any idea who could be behind this?"

Something dark and foreboding moved in deeply troubled eyes, and Qui-Gon clearly saw the mounting fear that gripped the younger man. A distinctly unsettling feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, yet the beeping of his comm unit prevented further insight into the matter.

"Qui-Gon," it was Tahl, and he could tell by the sound of her voice that something had changed. "Is Xanatos with you?" At his affirmation, she continued, "Get back to the Temple. We've found Garen."

They made their way to the Temple and into the Healers Wing in record time. Tahl was waiting for them and immediately sought them out, speaking before they could ask any questions.

"He's alive. Master A'chute and Padawan Chun found him in an area that had already been thoroughly searched at least twice." She paused and looked sympathetically at Xanatos. "There was no sign of Obi-Wan." She continued to look at him as she spoke. "He's hurt pretty bad, Xan. And he's asking to see you. He's refused any treatment until he speaks with you."

Entering the examination room Qui-Gon held back, not wanting to crowd the young man. As Xanatos approached Garen, the boy abruptly stood, though it obviously pained him to do so. Master Rowan's concern was evident, as he stood quietly at the boy's side.

Bruised and still bleeding, Garen was unsteady on his feet as he faced his best friends master. Xanatos stood patiently, waiting to hear what the young man had to say, confused by the hesitation and trepidation he sensed.

"I . ." He faltered, and tried again. "I never.." Xanatos inwardly winced at the raspy tone, a tone that only hours of screaming could produce. "I didn't want to leave him." The tremulous voice cracked, and a lower lip trembled – the youth clearly distraught.

For a long shocked moment Xanatos just stood there. Garen held his gaze, but it was clearly an effort. Slowly, his cold behavior towards the boy over the last few weeks began to permeate his consciousness. His regret was instantaneous and he reached out, curling a hand around the nape of the boy's neck, swiftly pulling him into an embrace.

"I know. Oh Force, I know that." The whispered voice reflected his own torment at the circumstances, and he felt the youth grip him tighter. "It's alright." Garen's tenuous grip on his emotions finally breaking. Xanatos held him as quiet broken sobs racked the boy's frame, and warm tears slowly bled through his tunics. He glanced sideways at Master Rowan, seeing the same helplessness he felt mirrored in the other's eyes.

Only moments later, Garen had quieted, and his grip on the master began to ease. He dipped his head as he pulled away, wiping away any lingering wetness. He then reached for Xan's hand, turning the palm upward as he placed a comm disk in the man's hand. The encoded disk had a live feed modification and was otherwise unmarked.

Xanatos looked to Garen questioningly as his fingers curled protectively around the small disk, "I was told to give this to you."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild threat of noncon for Obi-Wan and some implied _stuff_ with Xanatos. Its very vague and exactly what may have occurred is left up to the reader, but you're left with no doubt that _something_ occurred.

Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos restlessly paced the common room floor, clearly on edge. More than an hour had passed since returning from the healers and activating the unmarked disk. As expected, the device was specifically engineered to avoid even the most sophisticated tracing technology. It had opened to a scattered connection that was currently bouncing signals all over Coruscant. All they could do was wait until whoever was on the other end decided to open a direct link.

Qui-Gon accepted a cup of tea from Yoda, both of them seated at the dining room table. He regarded Xanatos silently as he took his first cautious sip. Thoughts of questioning the younger man, picking up where they had left off at the precinct crossed his mind – as he very much suspected that Xanatos had a good idea who was holding Obi-Wan. However, he quickly assessed, and rightly so, that Xanatos was in no mood to discuss his suspicions with Qui-Gon, or anyone else for that matter. So he had taken Yoda's lead and remained silent – for now. It was obvious that the young master was tightly wound. It wouldn't take much to set him off. It would not do to get into another verbal exchange with the boy, as it could very well end in his expulsion from the young man's quarters – and he wasn't going anywhere.

Perfectly aware of the eyes that followed him, Xanatos continued to pace. It was imperative that he keep moving, as it was the only thing keeping him sane. His eyes flickered to the console, awaiting any indication of an incoming signal. Nothing. The blankness of the screen and the piercing silence of the unit mocked him.

He knew without a doubt that the sadistic bastard holding his padawan was delighting in his current torment. Oh yes, he knew exactly who held his padawan. And he knew exactly what they wanted. He should have expected it really, and on some level, maybe he did. Still, he had hoped for more time – and to be able to somehow protect Obi-Wan.

It was still possible. It had to be. He glanced at he silent comm unit again, willing the thing to make that cursed chirping sound that would indicate an incoming message. It remained stubbornly silent. The fear that had initially gripped him upon the realization of who held his apprentice had since given away to determination – and resignation. He would do what he had to do, but only, only when Obi-Wan was out of danger.

He was no longer the same arrogant boy who had been led so easily astray. Looking back, he could see what an easy and obvious target he had been. That was no longer the case. The young arrogant boy had long since grown into himself, becoming a much wiser and better man than even he had ever thought possible.

Last time, he fought to save himself. And still it had been more luck than skill that had him escaping with his life. And now. Now a life more precious than his own was at stake. There was no room for fear, no room for reservations. He would do whatever he had to. Pay any price asked - up to and including his very soul. And he knew, with absolute certainty that it could very likely come to just that.

His thoughts turned to Telos, where the nightmare had begun. It all came back to Telos. Xanatos stopped pacing so suddenly that both Qui-Gon and Yoda regarded him worriedly. He turned slowly, fully facing Qui-Gon. Soft cerulean eyes met the deepest indigo, and he knew. He knew that his life was about to come full circle.

As if on cue, a small chime sounded breaking their gaze. Xanatos moved swiftly to the comm, Qui-Gon and Yoda following suit. The terminal went through a series of beeping and chirping as a connection was finally made. Slowly, the dark blank screen began to give way to a murky blurred image, taking several seconds to come into focus. All three waited breathlessly, and not so patiently as the picture cleared – revealing a lone figure.

Securely bound to the chair he'd been placed in, Obi-Wan Kenobi was clearly visible. Yet palpable relief at the site of the boy quickly turned to concern at the bowed head and shallow breathing. Xanatos noted the slightly mussed but otherwise unmarked condition of the boy. A single beam of weak light illuminated the unconscious captive.

For more than a heartbeat no one spoke. Then, as if willing his padawan to wake, to respond, a soft lilting caress of the boy's name left the master's lips. Though Qui-Gon knew Xanatos cared deeply for the young one, he was once again caught off guard by the very depth of emotion expressed in that single word, "Obi-Wan."

A stirring of the shadows prickled at their senses, causing the hair on the back of their necks to stand on end. From the darkness a pale and aged hand snaked its way from behind its victim, settling firmly, possessively, on the boy's shoulder. Obi-Wan's head remained bowed, chin to chest, as evil, in its most pure and focused form appeared shrouded above him.

Both Qui-Gon and Yoda were too well trained to gasp aloud, but it was a Jedi equivalent – easily felt through the Force. A greasy smile graced the hooded countenance, a voluminous cowl concealing most of the wizened features. The resurgence of the Sith had been thoroughly documented only a few years prior, yet the mission surrounding the return had been kept in the strictest of confidence by the council. Qui-Gon was stunned to find that it wasn't until this very moment that he actually believed it to be true.

The innocuous smile widened by a fraction. "Xanatos." An oily caress of the name, as if it pleased the speaker to say it. "You don't look surprised. Good."

Qui-Gon and Yoda shared a glance, and while the comm was set only to send Xan's image and voice, they remained solemnly silent. When Xanatos did not directly respond, the Sith continued. The porcelain hand moving from Obi-Wan's shoulder to cup the dimpled chin, lifting the young face to the master's view.

"I must say, you have extraordinary taste my boy." The hooded head dipped slightly as if taking in the lax face beneath him. "Why the lad is absolutely exquisite." A slight pause, and though Xanatos could not see the penetrating gaze, he easily felt the weight of the Sith's stare. "The light is as loving of him, as the darkness is of you."

An old fear gripped Xanatos at those words, yet he remained silent, his expression betraying nothing. The smile that had yet to fade turned knowing. "Pity we wont get a chance to become better acquainted your apprentice and I. I find him thoroughly charming." A slight, almost affectionate stroke to alabaster skin. "He's quite the negotiator. I dare say if it were not for him, young Garen may not have survived my…" A pause as if searching for the right word. " . . interrogation." That was not the right one and they both knew it. An interrogation would lend one to think that questions had been asked and answers had been sought. No, what poor Garen endured was a torture session, plain and simple.

"It was most entertaining really," the Sith continued, unconcerned with Xan's silence. "Witnessing the emotional anguish of one friend while the other is beaten within an inch of his life." A droll sound, resembling a chuckle. "Most entertaining indeed."

Knowing how such a thing would affect his padawan, Xan's eyes slid shut in sympathy. It was an involuntary, unconscious reaction, and it did not go unnoticed. "I find myself eagerly anticipating what remains of the evening." Finally looking to provoke a response the Sith asked, "Tell me, will he scream for me as prettily as you did?"

Xanatos noticeably stiffened, the sting from the obvious barb failing to register as the hand cupping his padawan's chin began to drift lower, dipping just inside the slightly parted tunics. His first engaging word to the Sith was simple, yet commanding. "Don't."

The hand ceased its movement, but did not withdraw. The air turning subtly contemplative. "Did you enjoy your visit to the morgue, young one?" Xan's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening. A mocking chuckle from the darkness, "I thought you'd appreciate that."

Xan's stomach churned in sympathy for the young man laying in the morgue – whose only crime more than likely was bearing too close a resemblance to his padawan. As if sensing his thoughts, the Sith's smile disappeared.

"You've become soft, boy." The man was clearly displeased, noticeably harnessing further commentary. It was time to get down to business. "You know what I want."

"I do." Xan surprised at the steady confidence he heard in his own voice.

"Soon," The Sith smiled in anticipation, knowing his prey had little choice. "Soon you will take your proper place, at my side."

Xan's gaze slid to his apprentice, who looked even younger and more vulnerable in his unconscious state – as was no doubt intended. There was a marked determination in his voice as he spoke.

"I will do what I must."

"As do we all," the Sith intoned, no longer sounding so mocking. Then, "I underestimated you once, my prince. It will not happen again."

"No, I don't expect that it will." Resigned to his fate, and willing to embrace it fully, if it meant that Obi-Wan would live. This time – it was his penetrating gaze that sought the unseen eyes of the Sith. Qui-Gon and Yoda were both unsettled by the sudden influx of darkness that so seductively wrapped itself around the young master as he spoke.

"You will have me, but ONLY when my padawan is safe." Xan's voice was as calm as it was cold. He leaned closer to the monitor as he continued, his voice full of promise. "Should you harm him in any way - - it is you who shall answer to me."

A minute pause as the darkness swelled, a dark and full bodied laugh escaping the Sith. It was not mocking. In fact, it was quite the opposite – as if such a statement was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I will keep that in mind, young one." Laughter lacing the Sith's words as he lowered his lips to Obi-Wan's ear. A slick tongue snaking out to wet the whorl of the boy's ear. Enjoying the ensuing silence of his action, the Sith spoke one final time.

"You will know when to come to me. Come alone." Another flick of his tongue to Obi-Wan's ear. "His life depends on it."

Once the connection was broken, the wave of darkness that so suddenly engulfed the master was slowly and purposefully banked – with effort. While Qui-Gon had remained silent through the transmission, not so old feelings of betrayal began to permeate his initial shock. The compassionate and understanding gaze that had only moment's before graced his leonine features turned suspicious once again.

Xanatos didn't notice. He sat staring at the blank screen, trying to calm the tumultuous tide of his emotions. When Qui-Gon made to speak, Yoda stopped him by placing a small clawed hand atop his much larger one. Qui-Gon regarded the green master almost irritatedly. He was tired of the Council, and especially Yoda, protecting Xanatos. What he had feared all along had finally come to light. Obi-Wan was in harms way – because of Xanatos.

"How could you do it?" Xan's voice quietly sliced through his mounting anger, an unnerving calmness disguising the importance of the question. "How could you just leave me there?"

Qui-Gon was a little thrown by the timing of the question, but recovered quickly. "This isn't about you, Xan."

The corner of Xan's mouth lifted in a humorless smile. "No. It isn't." He finally turned from the comm screen to look at Qui-Gon. "It's about you."

Qui-Gon faced him squarely, "This isn't the time . . ."

"I'm afraid it's the only time we'll have, master." Xanatos interrupted, Qui-Gon's heart skipping a beat at the soft inflection of his title. "Why?" Xan persisted, the question coming from the depths of his soul. "Why did you leave me?"

Yoda remained silent and hopeful as watched the two, sensing the breakthrough that had been so long in coming. Qui-Gon however felt caught off guard, and put on the spot. He didn't like it. He was not prepared to deal with this now.

"You. Know. Why." His gaze was sharp, bordering on cold. Old feelings of betrayal would not allow him to feel sympathy for the hurt that was bleeding into the familiar cobalt eyes.

"Do I?" Xan asked thoughtfully, and then thought of Obi-Wan. "No, I don't think I do."

Qui-Gon remained stubbornly silent, though his exasperation at the subject was evident as Xan continued.

"I trusted you." Then haltingly, "I . . needed you."

"You were an adult. You made your decision." A stab of pain at the soft admission had him sounding much harsher than he'd intended. "It was yours to live with."

This time, the hurt was not so easily concealed. "Did you care so little for me?"

Qui-Gon turned away, more affected than he cared to admit by the childlike vulnerability inherent in the question. "I haven't got time for this."

"Make time you will." Yoda's voice was unusually stern. Qui-Gon stopped short, but did not turn around. It was quiet for so long that he thought Xan would not speak again.

"Was there anything familiar about the darkness you sensed tonight, Master?" Xan asked.

There was no sarcasm in the question, as Qui-Gon might have expected. The young man in control of his emotions once again. "How could you not have sensed it?" This question seemed almost rhetorical. "It permeated everything."

"The only familiarity I noticed was between you and the Sith," Qui-Gon said coldly as he turned to face Xanatos again.

Xan gave a slight nod, looking sadly disappointed. He turned to the balcony, took a few steps toward it, then stopped. A stray breeze lifted the midnight locks as he began to speak.

"Yes," Choosing to ignore Qui-Gon's tone, Xan continued. "He calls himself Sideous." Funny, he always thought he'd be angry when this discussion finally took place. Somewhere along the way however, the anger had melted away – leaving behind only the hurt. "And I guess you could say we are," small pause to decide on the right word. "Intimately familiar with one another."

Qui-Gon turned to walk away, a sound of disgust escaping him. The calmness that had thus far enveloped the raven-haired master all but evaporated as he spun to see the retreating form.

"You will not walk away from me again!"

Qui-Gon's cutting reply as he turned to address the boy was cut short when he was force slammed in the wall behind him.

"Be quiet." Xanatos stalked toward him. "You will hear what I have to say."

"Your words mean nothing to me." Qui-Gon spat.

Xanatos faltered as if slapped, his anger dissipating at the heated comment. The smallest involuntary quiver in his chin stole its way through Qui-Gon's defenses, almost making him regret his cruelty.

"I have to wonder if it ever did," Xanatos sounded defeated, suddenly looking so much younger than he did just a moment before. He released his hold on Qui-Gon, reflexively stepping back away from the man. He looked uncertain as he stood there, as if wanting to say more. In the end, he shared a meaningful glance with Yoda and slowly retreated. Qui-Gon watched as he disappeared behind the sliding door of his sleeping quarters.

He continued to stare at the closed door until Yoda's voice commanded his attention. From long years of experience, he knew his master was not pleased with him.

"Tying to tell you something he was."

For once, Qui-Gon seemed at a loss for words. He felt as emotionally drained and defeated as Xanatos had appeared. A long suffering sigh from Yoda as he made himself comfortable on the sofa.

"Sit." He ordered. "Time now it is, for the truth."

Qui-Gon sat as ordered, looking confused and regretful about the previous encounter. He knew he could be cold at times, but very rarely was he deliberately cruel or hurtful. It bothered him. Whether the words he spoke were true or not, his heart ached for the manner in which he spoke them. He knew that it was mostly due to his own hurt, that he had given into his anger and allowed his mouth free reign.

"Sensed in your padawan I did, at a very early age – a fight for dominance between darkness and light. Knew, I did, when sent to Telos you were, that one would emerge victorious over the other."

Yoda's unusual openness had Qui-Gon's rapt attention. "A trial better than any the Council could devise would determine your padawan's loyalty." An apologetic look creased the master's aged face. "Sensed I did, that lost he would be."

"Wrong, I was," Yoda continued. "So wrong." It wasn't often at all that such an admission was made. Qui-Gon remained speechless as the story unfolded.

"Contacted the Council was by Teminth Naur," Qui-Gon recognized the name. The man had been Crion's chief advisor until the resistance had swayed his allegiance. "One to find your padawan, he was." A pause, and Qui-Gon looked at him questioningly. "Left for dead in an abandoned warehouse, he had been."

Qui-Gon's shock was visible as Yoda continued. "Sent a retrieval team we did. Reached, you could not be." There was no recrimination in the statement, but Qui-Gon felt it regardless.

"Seems it did, that threat of war died with Crion. Another was sent in your stead." Yoda purposefully avoiding the specifics of Xan's condition for now. "Renounced all claim to his father's throne, Xanatos did. Democracy now the Telosian government is."

"W-What happened to him?" Qui-Gon asked, not being able to get beyond anything else.

"Familiar with the prophecies dating back to the Great Sith Wars you are?" Qui-Gon nodded, he had always been fascinated with the ancient tales of both Jedi and Sith. "Their own prophecy the Sith had."

Qui-Gon's eyes became unfocused, his voice distant as he recalled in his own words the ageless lore he'd read so long ago. "In a time of impending darkness, two shall emerge. A master and an apprentice. Together, they will bring about the fall of what took years to build. Reclaiming the power that is rightfully theirs."

"Saw the master tonight, you did." Yoda stated. Qui-Gon only now beginning to comprehend the correlation between the secrecy of the Telos mission and the resurgence of the Sith. "Seeks he does, to claim your padawan for his own."

Qui-Gon was beyond shock by this point, listening in silence as Yoda continued. "Not the first time, it is. Alone on Telos you were not." Qui-Gon closed his eyes, icy fingers of dread beginning to claw through him.

"Orchestrated, all of it. For one purpose." Qui-Gon and Yoda both spoke the name at the same time. "Xanatos."

Qui-Gon recalled as many details from the mission as he could with new eyes. The weird feeling he'd had upon landing. Crion's strange behavior, Xan's erratic response, the blocked bond. Crion's attack, his stumble, his death. Xan finding them at the exact moment the life bled from his father's eyes. Had it all been engineered?

_How could you not have sensed it? It permeated everything? Xan's earlier comment echoed through his mind._

His head was beginning to spin, the coldness he felt within beginning to spread to his limbs. Yoda continued relentlessly, the truth had waited long enough.

"Interfered with your bond, the Sith did. Subtly influenced many of your padawan's thought and actions." Yoda's voice was sad, even as he knew that nothing could have prevented the eventual outcome. "Very slow and deliberate process it was."

His mind racing, Qui-Gon tried to grasp this reality with the one he had thought to be true. Had he been a pawn in a game that he hadn't even realized he was playing?

_How could you just leave me there?_

It was almost too much. Slowly, he realized that the cold feeling that was infusing every inch of his being was absolute horror.

_Tell me, will he scream for me as prettily as you did?_

Oh Force. He didn't want to hear any more. He stood abruptly, needing to move. How could he not have known? Had he suspected something? Had he been influenced as well? The clarity of hindsight offered a multitude of options that had not been explored. What if . . ?

"Changes nothing that does." Yoda's calm intuitive voice grounded him, Qui-Gon unaware that he'd been broadcasting his thoughts. "What is done cannot be undone."

His face was etched in a very open display of anguish as he went to his knees before Master Yoda. "Tell me what happened to him." Yoda regarded him gravely, before responding.

"Taken, he was. Soon after you left." Yoda was noticeably affected as he spoke, the memories of the mind probe surfacing with candid clarity. The tiny green master paused, closing his eyes before continuing. "Held for days, he was." He was unwilling to share the details of the boy's capture. The torture, the humiliation, the utter depravity that was endured. No, that was not his to tell.

"Refused to submit to the Sith, he did." A small smile of pride, even as he knew that it was not his right, as he had underestimated the young man as well. "When mattered most it did, reached for the Light, your padawan did. Cost him his life, it nearly did"

It did not go unnoticed that Yoda left many of the specifics out. Qui-Gon was uncertain as to whether he was grateful or alarmed by the omissions. Feeling as if his entire world had realigned itself, Qui-Gon slowly rose to his feet. His mind and his heart pulling him in two different directions. While he badly needed to take some time and meditate on all that had been revealed, his heart was pulling him towards to closed door that separated him from his padawan – his feet already moving of their own accord in that direction.

He knocked softly, and got no response. He tried again, calling Xan's name. He stood for a moment undecided, almost turning to leave, then boldly hit the release mechanism – stopping short as he entered the room. He found Xanatos soundly asleep, the recent events having taken their inevitable toll. The young master's feet still resting upon the floor, as if he'd been sitting when the day's exhaustion finally claimed him.

Gingerly, Qui-Gon sat on the bed next to him. He studied the unguarded features, noting the lines of stress between midnight brows and around the eyes and mouth. So many years of wasted anger and bitterness. In a matter of minutes, it had all been wiped away – leaving behind that which had been there all along. Love. Yet, there were so many other conflicting emotions he needed to work through as well.

A few tendrils of shoulder length ebony locks drifted into the young man's face as he moved restlessly. Qui-Gon reached to secure the wayward strands, one finger stroking down the prominent cheekbone. He knew without doubt that he would forever regret the time that had been lost. Yet now he had cause to be hopeful.

He very much wanted a chance to get to know the man his padawan had become. The decision, he knew, was not his alone. They had much to work through. For his part, he must come to terms and accept his role, his responsibility for what transpired on Telos - and to accept that which he had no control over. And perhaps the hardest of all, to come to terms with the decision he made when he walked away from his padawan.

Thankful that Xanatos remained sleeping, Qui-Gon rose. He was not ready to face the young man just yet. And he knew that Xan's main concern, as well as his own, was Obi-Wan. He would in no way add to the stress the master was already under. There was time. He hoped that meditation would bring him the understanding he sought. As he left he turned once more to gaze at the sleeping figure. His eyes were soft, filled with renewed hope.


	13. Chapter 13

It was deep into the night cycle as Qui-Gon left Xan's quarters and slowly made his way back to his assigned rooms. A noticeable melancholy clung to him as he traversed the dimly lit and deserted corridors. The Temple was still - save for the variety of nocturnal species that so quietly and respectfully went about their nightly routines.

Entering stark empty quarters he stood just inside the entrance as the door slid closed behind him. The cold numbing feeling of horror he had so recently experienced, as the true events of Telos became known had since given way to a lost and empty feeling that had settled itself heavily in the pit of his stomach. He did not move, made no attempt to turn up the lighting.

Pinpoints of light danced across the barren walls, the traffic lanes bustling even now. Eventually he moved forward into the common room, on some level aware that he lingered in the shadows. He did not remove his cloak, instead pulling it just a little bit tighter. He knew the coldness he felt was more inside than out – more psychological than physical, but it offered him a comfort he was disinclined to deny himself.

Still reeling from the night's revelations, he did the only thing he could. Dropping to his knees in the center of the room, he reached for the calming presence of the Force. It's soothing warmth slowly infused him, fighting off the stubborn inner chill as he did his best to relax into its familiar and comforting embrace. He needed to meditate - to understand all that had happened. Readying himself for the very focused task that lay before him, he immersed himself completely within the Living Force – sinking deeper and deeper into its natural rhythm. Easily finding his center, he let himself be led back to the events of Telos. Then, for possibly the first time, he thoroughly and objectively examined all of his thoughts, feelings, and actions from that fateful mission.

For long hours he knelt there, still and regal, unaware and uncaring of the myriad of lights and shadows that danced across his weary countenance. On some level his conscious mind registered the natural passage of time – of night breaking into day, of the Temple coming to life around him. The gentle supportive probe Yoda sent his way. He was aware of it all, but it was distant – almost unimportant.

It was a painstakingly slow and illuminating journey that continued through the morning hours and well into the day, another eve fast approaching as he finally began to rouse. He opened his eyes to much the same site that had been there when he closed them. Disappointing. Somehow it almost seemed appropriate that after such soul-searching enlightenment - that something should be different.

With less than his customary grace, he rose to his feet, as an insistent growl tore its way through his stomach – his body's recent lack of nourishment making itself known. He absently noted that he should probably do something about that. Later. While his mind began a list of things he should or could be doing, his feet were already leading him to the big overstuffed chair that had never looked quite so comfortable as it did this very moment.

Worn brown leather boots lifted to rest on the low table in front of him, one foot crossing over the other. His eyes drifted shut as a large callused hand reached to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose. Those who knew him well would recognize the telltale sign of weariness. He let his thoughts drift, perfectly content to allow his body these few stolen moments of rest. He was tired. While it was entirely possible to bolster one's stamina during such intense meditations, he had opted not to divert any focus from his objective. There had been so much to consider. So much to understand.

Settling more comfortably into the chair, he drifted a little more. Yet a slight stirring in the Force garnered his waning attention. His instincts were telling him that the coming night would bring many changes to pass. Though his gift had always lain more in the Living side of the Force - there had been many times throughout his life when he would just knowthings with absolute certainty. There were never really any visions or prescience involved – he would just know. Unfortunately, as far as details went, the knowledge could be frustratingly vague.

An image of Xanatos as he'd seen him last arose behind darkened lids and a tenderness he'd not allowed himself to feel in a very long time swelled within him as he catalogued each beloved feature. With infinite sadness, he noted the more mature angles of the comely face – knowing that the time that had passed was forever beyond his grasp.

Little comfort had been found in the final analysis of his meditations. Careful reflection had shown him that there was very little he could have done differently on Telos. It had been a test for Xanatos, in more ways than one. It had been his duty to step back and let the boy make his own way. Yoda had been absolutely right in that no better trial could the Council have devised. And while it was painful to acknowledge that Xanatos had been influenced by the Sith, it was much more so to admit that the ultimate decision to act on those dark impulses had been Xan's to make.

It was with little sense of relief that Qui-Gon concluded that he had not been directly manipulated. He had however, unknowingly allowed himself to be manipulated by the actions of those around him. Yet there had been no way for him to have known of the Sith's machinations - therefore, there was no way he could have changed the eventual outcome of the mission - - with one exception.

It was the one thing he could not come to terms with, nor in all likelihood would he ever be able to forgive himself for. Never should he have left the boy there alone. And while his heart ached for what Xanatos undoubtedly endured at the hands of the sith, he knew that he could not have prevented it. Fate has a way of getting what she wants, and he strongly believed that what happened, happened for a reason. Still, that didn't stop him from wanting to go back and change that one moment in time. To have picked the boy up and carried him back to the Temple – kicking and screaming if need be.

He'd had his own reasons for walking away – ones he would forever bear the responsibility for. His own feelings of betrayal, disillusionment, and disappointment. And while they seemed very relevant at the time, they had become insubstantial in the face of recent developments.

His brow furrowed as the pull of sleep became harder to resist and he slipped just a little closer – succumbing completely only a moment later, with a slight unnoticed nudge from Master Yoda.

Some hours later he lay entirely undisturbed, a loud snore rumbling through darkened quarters – a testament to his exhaustion. A sudden unease from within the Force caused him to stir, bringing him closer to consciousness, as the fledgling bond he shared with Obi-Wan flared brightly to life.

_...M A S T E R_

He came awake, sitting fully upright in the chair at the urgent and familiar voice. He could sense the boy distantly through the open bond, but the contact was minimal, the link between them almost muted.

He felt Xan's powerful presence flood the connection, reaching for his apprentice. An invisible barrier prevented contact as the bond noticeably thinned, narrowing to a single thread. Xan's frustration at being denied contact was evident as he withdrew slightly – while Qui-Gon remained an observer, unsure if anyone had even noticed his presence at all.

XIXIXI

It was time. Focusing on the thin line tying him to his apprentice, Xanatos hurriedly donned his cloak. The connection was weak, but it would be enough to trace Obi-Wan's location. He was relieved to find that the boy was still on Coruscant. Some distance away, but still on planet.

He had traded his traditional Jedi garb for the darker attire usually worn on undercover missions. Black form fitting leggings tucked securely into polished black leather knee high boots, a soft pewter sinth-silk tunic left open at the top – a silver clasp at the neckline to secure the cape-like charcoal cloak.

Clipping his saber to this belt he felt the reassuring weight against his thigh as he moved towards the door, stopping short at the tiny green roadblock in his path. Unsure if he would ever be able to do so again, Xanatos took time he didn't want to spare to address the revered Jedi Master. He bowed his head as he went to both knees, a sudden immovable lump taking up residence in his throat.

"Bring him back to us, you must." Yoda said. He did not let his uncertainty of the night's coming events bleed into his words. The possibilities were endless, only those involved would determine the outcome. "Need him we do."

Raising his head, eyes awash with a multitude of emotions, Xan's voice was firm in his certainty.

"He will return. You have my word."

Yoda's solemn gaze softened at the implication inherent in the statement. He will return.

"Done well you have, young one." Yoda quietly praised, his eyes openly affectionate. "A great knight you have become."

Xanatos dipped his head slightly, eyes quickly closing to prevent sudden moisture from escaping. Never had he hoped to hear those words from the being before him. From only one other would they mean as much.

"I…" Xan started, his voice chocked with emotion. "I never thanked you for giving me a second chance.

Reaching out, Yoda placed a hand on the side of the knight's face and waited for him to lift his gaze.

"Earned it, you did." Yoda said adamantly, then softer, "never so glad to be proven wrong, have I been."

Xanatos searched the wizened eyes, truly seeing for the first time the respect and affection the little troll held for him. It eased an old ache in his heart, and firmed his resolve. The urgent pull of the bond was becoming stronger, yet he held the little one's gaze for a moment longer, seeking unspoken assurance for his padawan's welfare – should he not return.

The confirmation was instantaneous, as he knew it would be. Yoda was very well aware of Obi-Wan's importance to the Order, as was he. He rose to his feet, secure in the knowledge that whatever his fate may be, that his apprentice would be prepared to someday meet his own.

"May the Force be with you," It was the last words he heard as he left his quarters, pulling the cowl of his cloak up over his head. 

XIXIXI

Qui-Gon exited the lifts and quickly rounded the corner to Xan's quarters. Instantly, he was aware of the dark cloaked figure striding away from him.

"Xanatos!"

The figure wavered, a barely noticeable hesitation in his steps, then hurriedly continued. Qui-Gon watched him go, suddenly incapable of movement. He stood watching as the man disappeared around the corner, the dark flowing fabric of his cloak swirling behind him to brush the marbled wall.

The small tapping of a gimer stick alerted him to Master Yoda's approach. Both stood staring at the spot where the man had so recently departed out of their sight, each lost in their own thoughts as a moment of silence passed.

"Means to sacrifice himself, he does." Yoda stated.

The weight of those words settled heavily on his heart. "I can't lose him now." A quietly spoken admission.

"Important is young Obi-Wan. Returned to us, he must be." Yoda's voice was sad, but certain. "The sacrifice of one - will be the benefit of many."

Qui-Gon regarded him sharply. He was not in the mood for cryptic riddles. With a determined stride he set off in the same directions Xanatos has gone, knowing he would not get the answers he sought from Yoda. He too felt the insistent pull of the bond he shared with Obi-Wan. It was weak, but it would have to be enough.

XIXIXI

Weaving expertly through the dense traffic lanes Xanatos maneuvered the changing levels with practiced ease. He held tightly to the narrow lifeline that tied him to his padawan as the distance between them began to slowly close. Too slowly. He pushed the engines harder, sensing the area to cover was still great. An hour passed, and then another. Gradually the tall skyliners that dotted the horizon became fewer and fewer and the busy inner city traffic began to thin. Heavy cargo transports replaced the smaller personal crafts he'd been in company with thus far and various public transits carrying workers to and from their respective shifts passed by him as he crossed over into the warehouse district.

He was getting closer. Could feel the bond growing steadily stronger and was so focused on what lay before him, he never noticed the masterfully concealed presence behind him that shadowed his every move.

After a time, what little traffic remained fell away as he found his way into restricted air space. What started as a low buzz grew steadily stronger as he flew over the giant transformers that would lead him to the massive multi-leveled power station that dominated the entire quadrant before him.

XIXIXI

Qui-Gon flew low, using the Force to guide him through the dangerous maze of live energy cables that connected the large transformers to their respective couplings. Seeking to remain camouflaged within the Force, he fortified his shields as he sensed the swell of darkness rising before him. The element of surprise was currently with him, or so he hoped. It was an advantage he could not afford to lose.

XIXIXI

Xanatos entered the cavernous tower at the center of the station from the ground level. A huge beam of white light- one of many energy cores the plant housed stretched upward further than the eye could see. An eerie glow illuminated the criss-crossing catwalks above that connected the various levels.

Somewhere up above he could sense his padawan. Was close enough now to feel the boy's conflicting emotions at his arrival. Relief was clearly over shadowed by the uncertainty of what was now to come. He started upward, avoiding the lifts. He would need these last few moments to prepare himself.

XIXIXI

Qui-Gon entered the south side of the station at mid level. He could sense that Obi-Wan was close, above him by at least 18 levels. The metal deck beneath his feet reverberated with the force of the unbridled energy that surged through the main power core – the ever present buzzing growing strangely quiet the closer he got to its source. He would have to choose exactly the right moment to reveal himself. As always, he would let the Force be his guide.

XIXIXI

His relief was palpable as he was finally able to physically take in the form of his apprentice. He drank in the sight of the boy as the bond slipped free of it's strangle hold and flared brightly to life.

_Master_

Equal amounts of relief and fear vied for dominance in the dulcet tones as the boy took a step toward his master, stopping when the hand clasping his arm tightened in warning. Xanatos' eyes flickered to the dark countenance at the boy's side, unable to stop the dark surge of possessive emotions that desperately wanted to overcome him. The Sith's obvious pleasure at his loss of control bled easily through the dark force aura surrounding him.

Xanatos continued to approach them steadily, showing none of the urgency he felt in his steps. The two stood at the precipice of the energy core, a meager railing the only thing separating them from the unrefined power emanating from the wall of light that started several levels below him and continued upward as far as the human eye could see.

As he closed the final few yards separating him from his apprentice, the boy's arm was released. As they met, he grasped the young face between his hands. Uncaring of the audience they held, he brought their foreheads together accessing the bond that had been denied him for so long. He felt Obi-Wan grip his arms tightly as he spoke.

_Padawan_

Letting the bond affirm his presence, he tried to soothe the fears he could sense all too clearly. He desperately wished he could say that it was going to be all right, but knew that he couldn't. There was not enough time to say all that he wanted to say as it were. Closing his eyes, he let the bond wash over him – taking as much comfort from it as he could. Knowing that it would be his last chance to be able to do so.

"Listen to me," He said aloud, without pulling away. "You need to do exactly as I say." A small pause to indicate the importance of what he was about to say. "There is a speeder waiting for you. Go to the ground level and take exit 341B."

Through the bond he could sense the bubbling refusal about to spring forth. He gave a squeeze to the face he still held, pulling apart to look the boy in the eye.

"You WILL do as I say. I need to know that you are safe. Understand?" The tortured look in the boy's eyes was the only answer he needed. He continued, doing his best to not let his own emotions hinder his resolve.

"Take the speeder. Head directly back to the Temple. Do not," He felt the need to reiterate this point, "Do not look back."

A lone tear broke free from turbulent sea tossed eyes, Obi-Wan well aware of the sacrifice his master was about to make. There was so much Xanatos wanted to say, and so little time to say it all – yet he did his best to sum it all up in just a few simple but heartfelt words.

"Know this, young one," His voice was low, rough with emotion, as his grip on the youth tightened. "YOU were my salvation. Never doubt that I love you. I….."His voice cracked as he faltered only slightly. "I'm sorry."

He took the time to place a quick but gentle kiss on the boy's forehead as he finally released him. Stepping back, he distanced himself both physically and emotionally from his apprentice – stepping purposefully between Obi-Wan and the Sith.

"Go. Now." It was the last order he would give, and he watched as Obi-Wan took a step back – obeying him without thought. He watched as the boy took another step and then hesitated, the uncertainty in his eyes finally catching up with the rest of him.

_Please. Just go._

The urgency he felt traveled desperately through the bond, spurring the boy into movement once again. He didn't want to go – but he would do as his master ordered.

"Not so fast, little one" Silent until now, the gravelly voice of the Sith caused both pause. "You and I have some unfinished business."

Obi-Wan glanced nervously at his mentor as the man spun to face the hooded countenance. Fear and anger were easily visible through the Force as he spoke.

"We had an agreement."

Sideous responded with an unconcerned air, his voice the measure of calm. "I remember no such agreement."


	14. Chapter 14

Obi-Wan glanced nervously at his mentor as Xanatos spun to face the hooded countenance, no longer bothering to hide the fear and anger that so suddenly gripped him.

"We had an agreement."

Sideous responded with an unconcerned air, his voice the very measure of calm. "I remember no such agreement."

"Come now," Sideous continued condescendingly, watching as his young protégé froze at his next words. "You really didn't think I would allow him to just . . . walk away did you?" He gave Xanatos a knowing look, his tone taking on a menacing edge as he turned his rather intense focus from the master to the apprentice.

"No." The Sith continued, and Obi-Wan took a reflexive step back as the intense regard settled on him. "I'm afraid that will not be possible."

Sideous regarded the handsome, seemingly innocuous youth before him. A boy that was so utterly contrary to all that he stood for. It was a startling contrast – and beautiful to behold, that distinction between darkness and light - good and evil. And while it was a beauty that he'd learned to appreciate, in this instance it was one that he could not allow to flourish.

Every fiber of the darkness within him screamed a blaring warning where this boy was concerned. For far too long he'd trusted his instincts. Instincts that had served him very well over the years, bringing him more power than he ever could have imagined - yet there was so much more to be had. And he wanted it all.

The Sith Master knew beyond a doubt, that if Obi-Wan Kenobi were allowed to live, that the youth would in some way be responsible for the destruction of all he continued to work so hard for. He could not allow that to happen.

"Such a shame I don't have the time to break you, young one." The Sith advanced, joining Xanatos' side. "You could be a powerful ally," An amused smile as he silently contemplated using the master to subjugate the padawan. "With the proper incentive."

Xanatos swallowed his frantic desperation, his training kicking in as he calmed his mind. He would do his padawan no good by panicking now.

"You don't need him." He said firmly. "You've got me."

Sideous smiled, but did not alter his focus from Obi-Wan.

"Indeed."

The boy before him would never turn – would in fact end up being more trouble than he was worth in the end, but still he could not help but think what fun it would be to try. Shattered innocence was always the sweetest form of revenge against the Light. If only he had the time.

"Your master is correct, little one." Sideous said, delighting in the slight bristle in the boy at his choice of words. "I need a fully trained apprentice." He trailed a slow circle around the former prince of Telos, "One that has already been broken."

Giving his full regard now to Xanatos, his voice and choice of words booked no argument. "It is time to take your proper place – at my side."

"No!" Obi-Wan took an unconscious step towards his master, helpless desperation painting the young face.

"No?" Sideous replied calmly, as if discussing the weather, blatantly ignoring the anguish that all but threatened to consume the others in his presence.

"I don't think the child understands," he turned slightly to Xanatos, his tone mild. "The decision has already been made."

"The decision was based on his release." Xanatos said, almost succeeding in keeping the plea from his voice. "Let him go."

"We both know that is something I cannot do." He said to Xanatos almost apologetically, while his next comment was clearly directed at Obi-Wan.

"You have two choices, little one." Sideous said, knowing as he posed the terms, what the answer would be. "Join us . . . . or die."

A moment of heavy silence as Obi-Wan quite noticeably fought to control his conflicting emotions. Xanatos watched with obvious pride as the boy slowly won his struggle – a calm acceptance radiating from within.

Meeting the hooded gaze squarely, Obi-Wan firmed his stance. A glimmer of surprise flickering through rain washed eyes was quickly hidden, a familiar presence just levels below making himself known. With renewed hope, Obi-Wan lifted his chin, uncertainty giving way to determination. It was a slight, but unmistakable challenge.

A chilling smile from the sith spurred a puzzled Xanatos into action, as he once again moved to step between Sideous and his apprentice – and found himself unable to move, securely bound by an invisible Force barrier.

"So be it." Sideous' amusement with the situation was clearly at an end.

Xanatos struggled against unseen bonds in a vain effort to reach his padawan as the first round of crackling blue force energy sent Obi-Wan crashing to his knees, crying out in pain. Reveling in Xan's torment, Sideous took the time to subtly feed the darkness that wanted so desperately to overcome the young master, before releasing the apprentice from his torment.

Obi-Wan was left panting for air on his hands and knees, the lingering effects of pain still evident on his youthful features. It was a short respite however, for as soon as Xanatos relaxed against the Sith's hold in relief, Sideous unleashed yet another round of Force induced pain on the padawan.

Doing his best not to cry out, Obi-Wan writhed in pain as the blood in his veins turned to fire, becoming an all consuming liquid heat that sought to destroy all other sensations. He could do nothing but react to the pain.

Unaffected by the youth's cries, Sideous focused on Xanatos and the internal war raging within. Darkness was slowly overtaking the light – anger was beginning to overpower desperation.

Pleased by change, he once again released Obi-Wan, ignoring the ragged painful gasps that came from the crumpled form.

"The darkness is swelling within you." Sideous closely examining the undercurrents surrounding the young master, a strong and blatant force suggestion infusing his next words. "Your hatred for me is stronger than your love for him."

"Let go." The piercing gaze returned to Xanatos at his next words, "Let the power of the darkside consume you."

"No, master. No."

He knew, even as he heard the weak tremble in that young voice, that this was a battle he would not win. If embracing the dark was the only way to save a life that had come to mean more to him than his very own – he would do so. Gladly.

"Now, young Kenobi" The voice devoid of any inflection, as the Sith called up on the full power of the dark energy at his command. "You....will....die."

Xanatos stopped struggling against the sith's bonds, felt himself approach the abyss that would forever separate him from the light. He met Obi-Wan's gaze, once again struck by the hope so blatantly displayed in changeable eyes. Hope that was currently beyond his comprehension, and was quickly forgotten as a primal scream of ragged pain was ripped from the boy's lungs – a bright charge of electrical Force energy stretching from the tips of pale sithly fingers to wrap itself around the figure that spasmed uncontrollably beneath the onslaught.

The time to embrace his true destiny was finally at hand. As his eyes slid closed, Xanatos let his shields fall, willingly reaching for . . . . .

A familiar sound.

An emerald green blade slicing through impending, never-ending darkness.

His eyes opened as Qui-Gon Jinn appeared out of nowhere, moving on a steady intercept course between the Sith and his padawan. Suddenly, Xanatos understood the look of hope in Obi-Wan's eyes. He had known. Obi-Wan had known.

And now, he too knew what must be done.

The Sith's attention, momentarily diverted as he strove to neutralize this newest threat, was all the distraction that Xanatos needed. A weakened hold allowed him to easily slip free of Sideous' bonds and without hesitation, he charged the Sith. Both were caught in the backlash of crackling energy, as one cried out in pain, the other in shock.

Released from his torment, Obi-Wan turned to seek out his master, unable to move more than his head for the pain still coursing through his body.

Calling on every ounce of strength he had to keep him on his feet Xanatos let the weight of the Sith carry him backwards, stopping as he felt the railing that ringed the energy core hit his lower back.

"Master!" Obi-Wan called out, seeing what was about to happen.

Their eyes met, only briefly. A wealth of emotions and memories – of those shared, and those that would be forever lost passing between them. A pulse of unconditional love sent through their bond as the master let himself fall backwards into the energy core, taking the Sith with him.

 

XIXIXIXI

 

His pain all but forgotten, Obi-Wan scrambled towards the precipice with Force enhanced speed. Dropping his saber, Qui-Gon lunged for the boy in an effort to keep him from going over as well.

Fingertips managed to graze the edge of a billowing charcoal cloak as Obi-Wan called on every vestige of his remaining strength – reaching through the Force to cradle the falling form of his master.

Managing to slow the speed of the descent was all he could do, his control considerably weakened due to the sith's attack. He did his best to safely guide Xanatos to an adjacent platform several levels below, watching helplessly as the man collided with the steel partition ringing the energy core.

 

XIXIXIXI 

 

Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan closely as they descended the levels to Xanatos. It was obvious the boy was running on nothing more than pure adrenaline at this point, and more than once he reached to support the padawan as he stumbled down a step or two. Finally, they reached the level where Xanatos lay, both halting as the broken form came in to view. Were it not for the surface he rested upon, and the subtle discomfited crease between midnight brows – the master could have appeared to be resting rather comfortably.

It was through the Force however that Qui-Gon could sense the various external and internal injuries – most notably the broken back. He watched as Obi-Wan approached this master, going to his knees at the man's side. He seemed afraid to touch him – as if he may cause more damage by doing so. He looked to Qui-Gon helplessly, his eyes so clearly asking him to do something.

Thankfully Xanatos remained unconscious, which Qui-Gon was grateful for. The injuries, most of which were due to the fall were quite serious. The pain would be staggering should he wake. As Obi-Wan gently entwined his fingers with his master's, he felt a sudden influx of Healing Force. Qui-Gon's first instinct was to stop the boy, but he quickly realized that Obi-Wan had no intention of trying to perform a miracle. He wanted only to make his master more comfortable, infusing warmth into a body that was rapidly losing heat through the grated metal deck beneath them.

Qui-Gon withdrew slightly and contacted the Temple, requesting immediate back up in the form of medical and security forces. That done, he rejoined Obi-Wan, and together they kept vigil over the fallen knight – yet his senses remained on high alert. The sith's demise was not a foregone conclusion, and more than once it crossed his mind to make his way to the ground level for confirmation. Yet to do so would require leaving Obi-Wan and Xanatos. That was something he was not prepared to do. The two were much too vulnerable and he would not leave them open to another attack. So he kept his ground, prepared to defend them where he stood if necessary, but he would not leave them alone.

The rescue ship arrived in record time, making it to the plant in a quarter of the time it had taken by speeder. Qui-Gon made his way to Mace as a small but efficient team of healers surrounded Xanatos. As he updated the Councilor on the series of events, he noticed that Mace often looked over his shoulder at the fallen from of his friend.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt remorse for their recent encounters. Words of apology did not always come easy for him, yet he let his regret travel through the remnants of a long forgotten bond of friendship. A glimpse of warm russet in eyes that were always so intense met his gaze, wordless forgiveness readily offered. A worried and final glance in Xan's direction and Mace was off to lead a team of young knights to find what they hoped would be a dead Sith.

Returning to Xanatos, Qui-Gon noticed that Obi-Wan had not relinquished his hold on the young master's hand. The healers did not seem to mind, and in fact were doing their very best to ready the patient for transport without removing the apprentice at his side. Their efficiency was commendable, and after only a few moments they rose as one – supporting a fully secured Xanatos on the braceboard between them.

The trip back to the Temple was thankfully short and uneventful, a heavy silence hovering over the small group. It wasn't until they hit the docking bay and disembarked that the spell was broken and a flurry of activity began to take place. The patient was urgently whisked to the Healer's Wing, Obi-Wan so focused on the hand that he held and the weak link tying him to Xanatos that he barely registered the hurried journey.

He had gone as far as they would allow him, and reluctantly, he released his hold. He stood staring at he sliding double doors that his master and the healers had disappeared behind – oblivious to everyone and everything else around him.

He looked so young, so lost – and so afraid that Qui-Gon could not help but be drawn to him. His feet already moving in the boy's direction before the thought could fully coalesce. Yet he stopped short as he noticed Bant and Garen cautiously approaching the youth. Garen looked to be fresh from the bacta tank and still under the healers care, wearing a robe and under tunics. Faint bruises were still evident, and he looked a little worn, but was in much better condition than the last time Qui-Gon had seen him.

Obi-Wan had yet to notice their presence, still staring at the closed doors before him. It wasn't until Bant placed a gentle hand on his shoulder that the padawan became aware of his surroundings, abruptly turning to face his friends. The stoic façade, held to so tenuously, slipped just a little as Obi-Wan struggled to keep a hold on his emotions. Closing his eyes, let himself be drawn into the embrace of his two best friends.

A quiet moment between the three, each giving and taking comfort was broken when Obi-Wan withdrew slightly, whispering words too soft for Qui-Gon to hear. Garen however, had heard them all too clearly.

"Don't." His voice firm, while the hands that grasped Obi-Wan's face were kinder. "Do not apologize. What happened to me was not your fault."

Obi-Wan didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't argue. It must have been obvious that all of his emotions were very near the surface. His eyes watered, but he refused to let any tears fall. Garen took pity on him, pulling him into a rough embrace.

"I.." Obi-Wan swallowed, tried to regulate his breathing as he squeezed his friend tight. "When they took you away . . . . I didn't know if you were dead or alive."

Remembered pain was evident in Garen's eyes, causing a slight waver in a voice still hoarse from endless screaming. "I wasn't sure myself for awhile there."

They clung to each other only briefly, eyes meeting momentarily as they separated. While both were clearly not ready to talk about their ordeal, to each other – or anyone else for that matter, Qui-Gon could plainly see the immovable bond of friendship that would forever bind these two youths together.

"How is he?" Garen asked. A noticeable but necessary change in topic, noting the shadows of worry flickering in storm tossed eyes.

"I don't know." But something in the haunted tone said that he did.

Through the fledgling bond, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's waning strength as if it were his own, pain and exhaustion finally overriding the adrenaline that carried him thus far. A subtle wave of Healing Force to bolster the boy's stamina did not go unnoticed, as Obi-Wan turned to face him, suddenly aware of his presence.

He looked a bit chagrined as he crossed the small distance to Qui-Gon, grasping both of the master's large hands in his own. A various array of emotions chasing their way across the tired face before the youth finally spoke.

"You saved me." A simple, but meaningful statement. "You saved us both." An almost desperate squeeze to the hands he held, very aware that his master's mortal life hung in the balance – yet so relieved that the man's eternal life still belonged to the Light. "Thank you."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard, hearing the boy's thoughts clearly through a bond that grew steadily stronger with each passing minute. He stifled what could easily have been a sob, gripping the hands encased within his own. For so long he'd believed the soul of the boy he had once loved as a son had already been lost.

"Would you like to join us?" Obi-Wan broke his reverie, the question taking a few seconds to permeate his consciousness. He looked to Bant and Garen, half expecting an objection in some form or other. When there was none, he gratefully nodded his acceptance and joined the three friends to await word of Xanatos' condition. A short time later Master Rowan and Tahl joined the vigil, Tahl offering Qui-Gon a squeeze to his shoulder as she made her way past him to Bant. An hour passed, and Garen was just beginning to nod off on Bant's shoulder when Healer S'ierge made her way from the infirmary towards the small group.

Qui-Gon knew immediately that the news was not good. He looked to Obi-Wan and quite literally saw the last vestige of hope drain from the youth's face – his features taking on a heartbreakingly neutral expression.

As they moved to rise, she motioned for them to remain seated. Grabbing an empty chair and pulling it close she positioned herself opposite Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, her demeanor radiating both sympathy and compassion.

After a pause that was a bit too long, the Healer reached to settle a hand on Obi-Wan's knee.

"He's awake and asking to see you."

Obi-Wan didn't move, seemed incapable of voicing the question so clear in his eyes.

"How..." Qui-Gon intervened, clearing a throat suddenly gone dry. "How is he?"

Another pause. "Not good." She let those words sink in before continuing, not wanting give them any false hope.

"He's bleeding internally." The next part was hard to admit. "We can't stop it."

Bant and Garen exchanged stricken looks. If the bleeding could not be stopped, then the master could not be stabilized. If the master could not be stabilized then there could be no bacta treatment. If there was no bacta treatment . . . . there was no hope.

It seemed Obi-Wan had come to the same conclusion.

"How long?" He asked, his voice as empty as the haunted look in his eyes.

She noticed he did not look at her. Perhaps not wanting to see the sympathy so clear in her eyes. Her voice, when she spoke was as soft as the touch on his knee.

"A few hours at most."

Through the bond Qui-Gon clearly felt the internal anguish those words caused. An attempt to offer comfort was rebuffed, as Obi-Wan firmly closed his end of the bond with a regretful apology to Qui-Gon. This was something he needed to face alone. He met Qui-Gon's gaze, grateful for the understanding he saw mirrored there as he rose silently from his seat and went to his master.

The silence continued after his departure and stretched until Qui-Gon finally found his voice again.

"How bad is it?"

The Healer regarded him quietly, sensing his need for the truth.

"He is so utterly broken, I can't even begin to imagine how he survived the fall." A small trace of her frustration bled into her voice. So much available technology, and still, she could not save him. "The only thing we can do is make him comfortable."

Qui-Gon looked down at loosely clasped hands, the weight of so much lost time settling heavily on his shoulders.


	15. Chapter 15

The master's eyes were closed, his complexion as pale as the bed linens beneath him. Heavy, almost translucent lids slowly opened as Obi-Wan approached, a small but genuine smile gracing the familiar features. On the surface his mentor looked fine, merely a little tired and careworn. Through the Force however, the vibrant signature he'd grown so accustomed to was growing weak.

Fading.

Obi-Wan purposefully pushed the thought aside. He would live in the moment – until he could no longer. He would cherish, as always, any time spent in the company of this man.

Xanatos held his smile as his oh so stoic padawan wrestled with the reality of what was to come. When the boy was close enough, he reached out a hand, feeling his first twinge of sorrow at the tight desperate grip that met his. Taking a moment to center himself, he found it easier than he would have expected – feeling a peace that did not always come easily to him.

"It's going to be alright."

He knew this to be true, even as Obi-Wan shook his head minutely, his jaw tightening in denial. The boy's entire being radiating his misery, glassy jewel toned eyes silently screaming that nothing would ever be all right again.

Tugging on the hand he held, he pulled his padawan closer and bade him to sit in the chair next to the bed. Glancing at their clasped hands, he paused momentarily – knowing that this would be the hardest part for him. Never in his life had he cared for someone as much as he cared for the youth before him.

Obi-Wan was the personification of so many things – the son he would never have, the little brother he'd always wanted, the second chance he may or may not have deserved. Tears threatened, prickling at the corner of his eyes. He had hoped to guide this child to knighthood, and only now did he realize that he was never meant to do so.

"Do you remember, " He managed, barely, to stave off the tears, yet his voice was thick with emotion. "The day you were chosen?"

"Of course," the response delayed as the padawan studied his master's face in an attempt to memorize each beloved feature. Then a small genuine smile as he continued, "I was nine."

Xanatos got a far away look in his eyes, remembering that special day.

"Do you know what I remember most about that day?" He asked.

Obi-Wan regarded him curiously but remained silent, waiting.

"You," Xan's sharp focus met his, no longer softened by the memory. "Were not surprised."

At Obi-Wan's questioning look Xanatos continued. "You knew I was going to choose you."

Obi-Wan looked away momentarily, then down at his hands. "No. I . . ." He felt a bit embarrassed for some reason. "I just felt how right it was . . . when we were together." A small pause. "It just never occurred to me, at that time, that you would not choose me."

Xanatos smiled to himself. Obi-Wan's innocence had always enchanted him. If only it had been that easy. He had struggled greatly with his own worthiness in taking on the role and responsibility of Master. In the end however, he had put his own reservations aside – and for the first time in his life, placed someone else's needs above his own. Never had he regretted his decision – even now.

"And this? How does this feel?" The master asked.

"Wrong!" Obi-Wan answered immediately and forcefully, then continued softer, faltering just a little. "Just . . . so very wrong." The words ending in a whisper.

"That is your heart talking," Xanatos placed a hand on the boy's chest over his heart. "We are Jedi. We do not have the luxury of living in our feelings, padawan." His tone was still gentle, but had taken on the tone he often used when instructing. "You must seek your answers, your comfort, in the Force."

Obi-Wan regarded him beneath a sweep of ginger lashes as he continued. "What does the Force tell you?"

His padawan looked away, somehow managing to look both petulant and respectful at the same time – his body language indicating that he didn't really give a damn what the Force was saying on this particular topic. It was wrong!

Realizing it was easier said than done, Xanatos backed off. Acceptance would eventually come, with time.

He let his mind be drawn back to those early days, when he first met Obi-Wan in Yoda's little garden. He smiled unconsciously as he recalled the little boy who had so unwittingly captured his heart.

"You were so cute." He said without thought, amused by the indignant look and sudden sputtering from his apprentice at the comment.

"I was not cute!" Oh, how he hated that term. "Puppies are cute, master. Babies are cute." His voice softened, aware that Xanatos was trying to distract him and lighten the mood. "I was not cute."

Xanatos chuckled at the emphatic statement; it would do him no good at all to relay just how many times on many different worlds and in many different languages that such a term had been bestowed upon the youth. He put his hands up in mock surrender as he relaxed back against the pillows. Force, he was tired. It must have shown, as the concerned look quickly returned to his padawan's face.

"Are you…" Obi-Wan hesitated, and Xanatos remained silent, encouraging him to continue. "in pain?"

The master smiled reassuringly. "No. The Healers have done a nerve block. I can't feel a thing." He considered the small lie justified when his padawan relaxed ever so slightly, the smallest amount of distress bleeding away at those words. The fact that the fall had paralyzed him from the waist down and he'd not felt much of anything upon waking was completely beside the point. He would not burden the youth with such details. Besides, this is not how he wished to be remembered. These final moments would be spent focusing on his life, not his death.

Aware of his introspection, Obi-Wan remained silent, and as the padawan had done only moments before, the master let his eyes roam over the familiar features as if to memorize each and every one. His arm felt way too heavy as he reached to cup the side of the boy's face, his thumb settling in the crease of the cleft chin.

Obi-Wan's eyes slid closed as he allowed himself to relax into the touch. It was undoubtedly the last physical contact he would have with this man, and he wanted to savor each second. A lone, traitorous tear escaped from beneath closed lids and traced a hot path down smooth lightly freckled skin. He fought to maintain his composure as he felt the rough texture of his master's thumb wipe away the sudden moisture.

The ache in Xanatos' chest became nearly unbearable as he watched his padawan struggle with the overwhelming emotions of his grief. Still so young with so much left to learn. It would be up to another to complete the youth's training. He could only hope that the foundation that he had laid would be enough to see the youth through what lie ahead.

His hand wandered to the plait tucked just behind Obi-Wan's right ear. Fingering the tightly woven length, he couldn't help but notice the startling contrast between his dark raven strands and the lighter ginger locks. A rush of memories from that happy day, not so very long ago, flooded his senses.

Kneeling before a shy and quietly restrained child who just bubbled with excitement and unabashed joy, so happy to be chosen – by him. It was a happy memory, but one that had him feeling suddenly sad. Eight wonderful years together that were so much more than he could have ever hoped for – and here he was, wanting more.

Obi-Wan felt the sudden melancholy shift in his master's mood and grasped the man's other hand. Realizing that he was inadvertently making this harder, he pulled himself together as best he could. He would not let his grief overshadow their last moments together.

"Do you remember…" He started, his eyes watery but his smile genuine as he purposefully set about trying to make this transition as easy as possible for his master. "Our first snowfall?" Obi-Wan asked.

"How could I not?" Xanatos said, a sparkle returning to tired eyes.

He had returned from a mission in the middle of the night only to realize that is was the eve of the Winter Solstice celebration. Instead of making his way to his own empty quarters, he had sneaked quietly into the Initiates Wing and woke his sleepy new padawan. Obi-Wan had assumed they were heading back to their quarters, but was surprised when his master covered his eyes and led the curious youth in the opposite direction.

They paused just outside the Serenity Garden, one of the largest in the Temple, and closest in proximity to the Initiates Wing. Removing his hands from Obi-Wan's eyes, he palmed open the door and ushered the youth forward. The look on his padawan's face when he opened his eyes was well worth the loss of the few precious hours of sleep he had been anticipating.

There, stretched out before them, a blanket of untouched snow glimmered in the pale artificial moonlight - giving the garden an ethereal glow as large fluffy flakes fell in soft cascades all around them.

The young padawan was left speechless, completely caught within the beauty of the snowy scene before him. It wasn't the snow itself that was a surprise, after all – it was a yearly tradition on the day of the Winter Solstice. Yet to witness the very rare snowfall as it fell, in the middle of the night – was an entirely different experience.

His entire focus narrowed down to that one brief moment, an instant where he could almost forget that he was in the midst of the Jedi Temple, and that this moonlit winter wonderland wasn't just for them. A split second in time when the world as he knew it was quiet and at peace – and utterly lovely.

The tranquility of the moment was not the least bit diminished when his Master grabbed his hand, and together, they plowed through the fluffy white snow - spinning and laughing and christening every inch of it they could while the Temple slept.

And while the snow was not meant just for them, to Obi-Wan it would always be remembered as a magical moment in time, a special gift from his master. A time when he realized that his heart truly belonged to this man – and that he was loved in return. It was one of his earliest and most cherished memories of their time together.

As they often do, one happy memory led to another, and to another – and the two quietly reminisced over milestones and missions, sorrows and triumphs until finally, Obi-Wan could no longer hide his exhaustion.

"You should sleep," Xanatos said gently, noting the drooping lids and restraining himself just barely from infusing the words with a Force suggestion.

"I'm not tired." It was an automatic response and Xanatos smiled knowingly causing the padawan to color slightly.

"I just…..I don't want this to end." Obi-Wan said haltingly, his eyes watering once again.

"I know." Xanatos said, reigning in his own emotions. "I know."

"It has been a pleasure to watch you grow and learn, young one." The pride in the master's voice was unmistakable.

"You will make a fine Knight."

Obi-Wan looked away. All he could think of was that moment in the power station when he used every ounce of his strength in an effort to save his master – and was unable to do so. What good was he if he couldn't even save the most important person in his life?

"Don't!" Xanatos grasped the dimpled chin firmly, forcing the padawan to meet his eyes. "Do that."

"You cannot change what was meant to be." He softened his grip and his voice as he continued. "You did your best, and that's all I could ever ask of you. And by doing so, you've given me something very precious."

Obi-Wan didn't trust himself to speak, but the question in his eyes was clear.

"You've given me the chance…." Xan's voice finally cracked with emotion, and Obi-Wan's chin quivered in response. "to say . . . . good-bye."

Obi-Wan sniffled softly, determined to hold his tears at bay. But I don't want to say good-bye. The child in him sobbed. And finally, it was all too much. The overwhelming emotions, on top of everything else he'd so recently endured began to take hold.

He leaned forward in his chair, allowing his head to rest upon folded arms next to his master. Silent tears of grief and exhaustion could no longer be held back, and he let them course freely down his face as he held tightly to his master's hand. At this point a seventeen year olds pride was the only thing that kept him from crawling up onto the bed with the man. He was no longer a child after all.

Before the tracks of tears could even begin to dry, the padawan was slipping ever so slowly and reluctantly towards the peaceful oblivion of sleep. The battle for consciousness finally lost when a large hand settled on his head and began carding through his hair.

 

XIXI

 

Qui-Gon's heart skipped a beat as he entered the room. Xan's eyes were closed and he lay so still that for one long horrible moment he thought he'd lost his chance to make amends.

Quietly, he made his way to the bed and perched on the edge, smiling fondly at a sleeping Obi-Wan. Even now, soundly asleep he could sense the youth's exhaustion through the Force, and was thankful that the boy had finally succumbed to some much needed rest. Lifting his eyes to Xanatos, he met the man's tired but intense sapphire gaze.

They regarded each other silently, Qui-Gon searching for the appropriate words to express the fountain of conflicting emotions that wanted to spill forth. In the end however, only two words really mattered.

"I'm sorry."

He was surprised when Xanatos actually smiled, a true genuine smile of forgiveness.

Gently removing his hand from Obi-Wan's grip, he reached for Qui-Gon. "As am I." He said, his other hand continuing to stroke a sleepy auburn head.

Their gazes held, as each silently mourned the time that was forever lost and beyond their grasp, marveling at how ironic it was that forgiveness could come so easily when no other options were available.

"Xan…" Qui-Gon started.

"Stop." Xanatos interrupted Qui-Gon's apology. "Please don't."

"I've come to realize," Xan said after a moment, "that we each have a hand in our own destiny." This discussion was long overdue, and he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of liberation as he spoke.

"It was my actions that led us to this moment." Not so hard to say, but he was being vague and he knew it. It was time to take full responsibility for his actions. "I am so sorry for hurting you . . . for," a barely noticeable tremble in the silken voice as he continued. "Betraying you."

Qui-Gon gave a supportive squeeze to the cool hand he held.

"I never should have left you behind." He said, more touched than he would have ever imagined by Xan's apology.

"But you did." This time Xan's smile was bittersweet. "And it's taken me this long to realize that it was the best thing you ever could have done for me."

Qui-Gon's surprise at that statement was evident.

"The Force truly does work in mysterious ways, Master." Xanatos continued. "I made some serious mistakes, and came close to losing it all. I had to live with the consequences of my actions – namely, losing you and almost losing my place in the Order." The smile turned rueful. "It humbled me more than you could ever know."

"And in the end, it lead me to Obi-Wan. I would change none of it for that reason alone." Xanatos was looking at his padawan as he spoke. When he lifted his gaze, he was unprepared for the obvious pride displayed so clearly in Qui-Gon's eyes. It caught him off guard and he faltered momentarily, clearing his throat and looking away.

Qui-Gon however was having none of that. He reached to gently turn the guarded face back to him, and took a moment to just study the beloved features.

"Somewhere along the way - you've become the Knight I always knew you could be." No tears, but so much emotion conveyed in the words.

"I just wish I had more time . . . . to get to know the man that you've become."

Overwhelmed with emotion Xanatos closed his eyes, amazed at how easily all the old hurts fell away at those words.

"You have no idea," Opening his eyes as he continued. "How often I longed for your advice."

Qui-Gon looked to a sleeping Obi-Wan for a long moment.

"It seems you've done just fine without it" Smiling as he returned his attention to Xanatos. "He is an amazing young man."

"Yes," Xanatos said, regarding the youth himself. "He is." Pausing as he gained control over his emotions, what he was about to say was very important.

"And just as I must accept that my time with him has come to an end . . . . you must accept that yours is only beginning."

Qui-Gon met his gaze silently and Xanatos was noticeably relieved to read the acceptance in his eyes.

"You will complete his training." The statement came out sounding more like a question and Qui-Gon realized that Xanatos needed to hear him say it.

"I would be honored." He said genuinely, a slight sheen to otherwise crystal clear azure eyes the only sign to indicate just how deeply affected he was by the trust that Xan was placing in him.

The master relaxed more fully into the pillows beneath him, a weight lifted. "Thank you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a time, and Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos continued to gaze at his padawan, gently stroking the soft hair.

"You're very good with him." He remarked. "Your affection for each other is obvious."

Xanatos looked at him questioningly, Qui-Gon's tone indicating there was more he wished to say.

"I just never imagined . . ." Qui-Gon stumbled over the words, not wanting to offend. Finally, he just decided to be blunt. "You never cared for children. Ever. Crèche duty was like the worst punishment I could ever give you."

Xanatos was grinning openly at this point, and uttered a small laugh as Qui-Gon finished – the sound warming the elder master's heart immeasurably.

"What changed?" He asked.

Xanatos' gaze returned to Obi-Wan again, and there was no mistaking the love he felt for his young charge.

"Everything." The voice soft and quiet as he continued. "Everything changed when Obi-Wan came into my life." A long thoughtful pause as he trailed back of his hand down the soft curve of the youth's jaw line. "There is an innocence to him, even now – that I never had."

"You were drawn to him." Qui-Gon said, completely understanding, still able to clearly recall how strongly the Force had urged his pairing with Xanatos.

"It was amazing," Xanatos said, and it was obvious he was remembering a specific moment. "To see the universe through those wonderfully curious, painfully innocent, ever-changing eyes." Qui-Gon was fascinated by the unguarded wonder on Xan's face and in his voice as he spoke. "Eyes so full of hope and promise, knowledgeable in so many ways, yet so unbelievably naïve and trusting when it came to wiles of the world."

Xanatos became suddenly aware of the way Qui-Gon was looking at him and stopped talking abruptly. "What?" He asked, feeling exposed for some reason.

Qui-Gon was silent for a bit, surprisingly emotional and caught off guard by the resurgence of love he felt for the young man before him. "I've just never . . . seen this side of you." His eyes were glossy, but he managed to rein in any tears at the thought that he more than likely never would again. "I like it."

Xanatos looked both pleased and a bit self-conscious at his words, and Qui-Gon quickly took the focus away from him and back to their earlier discussion.

"A child's trust is an amazing gift." Speaking from his own experience as a master, he looked to a sleeping Obi-Wan as he continued. "It's not always easy to find a balance between love and discipline. You appear to have done well. He is a credit to your training."

The words took a few moments to register, and Qui-Gon was unaware of their affect as he continued to gaze at Obi-Wan. Xanatos was so moved that he couldn't have spoken if he wanted to, finding it hard to swallow around a very large painful lump in his throat. He had to blink rapidly to keep the tears from threatening. To hear those words from this man – it was more than he ever could have asked or hoped for.

"It can be hard to just step back sometimes, and let them make their own way – their own mistakes." Qui-Gon was obviously caught in the grip of his own memories and something in his voice made Xanatos look to him as he continued. "When all you want to do is protect that innocence for as long as possible."

Xanatos caught the faint hint of sorrow in Qui-Gon's voice and could not help but feel a bit remorseful for some of his youthful exploits. His smile was self-conscious and a bit rueful as he addressed the other man.

"I never made it easy on you, did I?"

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked in his rare gentle smile and his eyes twinkled with genuine affection as he returned Xan's gaze. "That you didn't, my padawan." That he wouldn't have had it any other way went without saying. "That you didn't."

The familiar title, so quietly expressed in that deep reassuring baritone suddenly reminded the raven haired master just how safe and protected he'd always felt in this man's presence. It was his turn to feel unexpectedly emotional.

"I never told you……" Xan started haltingly, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable yet determined to get this out. "I want you to know . . . . you should know . . . ." He stopped abruptly, frustrated at not being able to accurately express himself.

Qui-Gon waited patiently, having some idea what Xan was trying to say.

"I . . ." Xanatos tried again, his voice calmer. "I need you to know that . . . ."

When that uncertain gaze slid away form him again, Qui-Gon let go of the hand he held and grasped the pale face between his hands, gently forcing the young man to look at him.

"What? What do I need to know?" The voice soft, knowing, understanding.

It was surprisingly easy to say after all that, and finally he just let the words go. "that I . . . . loved you, I mean love you. . ." A frustrated sigh. "What I mean is, that I loved you then and now . . . ."

Qui-Gon's smile broadened and he leaned forward to place a tender kiss on Xan's forehead, effectively stopping the man's babble.

"I know." He said, voice rough with emotion. "I've always known."

Resting his forehead on Xan's, he continued. "Yet it is very nice to hear."

Eyes that were already closed, tightened in anguish. How many times in how many different ways had Qui-Gon said those words to his padawan in one form or another? Yet for some reason he'd never been able to say them back . . . . .until now.

An anguished whisper. "I'm sorry." And he truly was, so very sorry for any hurt he'd ever caused this man.

"Ssssshhhhhh……" Trying to soothe the sudden influx of emotional turmoil surging in the younger man. "All is forgiven." Qui-Gon's words and tone of voice seemed to calm the swell of emotions. "All is forgiven."

Enjoying the rare closeness, Qui-Gon waited until Xanatos pulled away and pretended not to notice the quick swipe to shiny eyes as the young master promptly returned his attention to his sleeping padawan. He reached again for the young man's hand, grateful that this small bit of comfort was being so readily accepted.

"Can I ask you something," He asked after a few moments of silence, wanting to know more of the history of Xan and Obi-Wan's relationship.

Xan's expression was wary, but receptive.

"It's obvious your pairing was force-blessed. You admit that you were drawn to him, yet you nearly refused him," Qui-Gon could tell Xanatos was uncomfortable with where this was going. "Why?"

Xanatos was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he did not meet Qui-Gon's gaze.

"It was not long after Telos when Obi-Wan came into my life." Xan said, clearly remembering. "I wanted nothing to do with him at first – and I kept my distance."

Smiling, he looked down at his padawan. "This little one had other ideas, however."

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to push further and ask more probing questions, sensing that Xan was ready to talk – but that is was hard for him to do so.

"I was afraid . . ." He paused, not liking how that sounded, true as it may be. "I didn't want to . . . taint him in any way." Small voice, obviously finding this admission hard. "I thought he deserved better."

Qui-Gon could not stop the small flush of shame that crept up his cheeks. After all, he'd thought much the same thing – not so very long ago.

"What changed your mind?" Qui-Gon asked, squeezing Xan's hand in silent apology.

A brief internal struggle took place behind guarded sapphire eyes as the younger master debated on sharing this very private bit of information. He met Qui-Gon's gaze squarely as he made his decision.

"I've not mentioned this to anyone." He said, and Qui-Gon understood he was being taken into confidence here. Xan held his gaze almost challengingly as he continued.

"I had a vision."

Qui-Gon remained silent, but there was a definite arch to surprised brows. As a youth Xanatos had shown some minor precognition skills, mostly vague thoughts and feelings but nothing that would indicate any latent prescient abilities.

It was obvious he was trying to gauge Qui-Gon's reaction so he did his best to remain neutral.

"What did you see?" It was common knowledge that he did not place much stock in things such as visions. While he clearly recognized the importance of both the Living and the Unifying Force, he felt that much of what the future was determined by happened here – in the moment. "Tell me."

"It wasn't so much what I saw." Xan's expression was haunted as his eyes strayed back to Obi-Wan again. "It was the knowledge that came with it." He was silent for a long moment before continuing.

"All of this," He spread his arm outward to indicate he was speaking of more than his immediate surroundings. "Is gone. The Temple. Everything. It's gone." His voice held such a sad certainty that Qui-Gon could not help but frown.

"The Jedi . . . .will fall." Looking to Qui-Gon again. "The Sith will see to it."

"How . .?" Qui-Gon wanted to hear details that Xan just didn't have.

"I don't know." Xanatos said, and Qui-Gon was struck by the deep sorrow in his voice. "I only know that it will happen."

Qui-Gon just could not fathom the possibility and was struck speechless as Xan continued.

"What Jedi remain after the destruction of the Temple will be hunted to near extinction." He looked to Obi-Wan meaningfully, and Qui-Gon followed his gaze. "Only a precious few will survive."

"He is an old man as I see him." The voice was soft and pained. "Exiled to some barren wasteland of a world." Xanatos had to stop momentarily, and it was clear that he found what he was saying upsetting.

"He's alone, tired, battle worn- yet he carries himself in much the same way, but with a quiet grace he's grown into over time." His affection for the man his padawan would become was obvious and he smiled fondly at the memory. "He still has that same light in his eyes."

"He's waiting . . .watching for something. I'm not sure what." Xan swallows past an obvious lump in his throat and meets Qui-Gon's gaze.

"He carried such a heavy burden, Qui." Pain filled eyes seemed to be asking him to explain why. "Such guilt."

"I could feel it as if it were my own."

Qui-Gon remained silent, not sure what to think. His eyes returned to the sleeping padawan as Xanatos finished.

"I just knew that if there was any way at all, that I could affect that bleak future for the better – I had to at least try."

Qui-Gon's natural skepticism of such things must have bled through his expression.

"You don't believe me." Hurt, but not surprised.

"I believe that the future is always in motion," Qui-Gon said diplomatically, quoting Yoda. "What you saw could simply be one of many possible variations the future has in store."

Xanatos seemed to relax at his words, but continued to regard him quietly.

"Obi-Wan is very gifted in the Unifying Force." He started, sensing some possible future conflict – and wanting to be clear in his wishes. "You must promise me that you will never discount his visions. They are surprisingly accurate and have gotten us out of some very rough spots."

Xan's voice was controlled, but adamant – the slightest bit of agitation evident as he continued and Qui-Gon rightly understood how important this was to the young man.

"It has only been within the last cycle that he's began to trust himself and to just let them come. If he starts to doubt . . ."

"I promise you," Qui-Gon interrupted, sensing the rising agitation. "That I will always take his foreseeing into consideration. You have my word."

The master thought to say more, but subsided. Master Yoda had taken a keen interest in Obi-Wan's visions and would see to it that Qui-Gon gave them the proper attention.

Closing his eyes, the urge to drift peacefully into sleep was becoming harder to resist. He could not help but think of what a team his master and his padawan would make. One so strong in the Living Force, the other with the potential to be just as strong in the Unifying Force.

"You will compliment each other nicely." He said, his voice noticeably tired, starting to slur imperceptibly. He fought the pull of sleep, suddenly aware of all the things he wanted to convey – things Obi-Wan's new master should know.

"This will be hard for him." Xan said, stating the obvious. "He will want to withdraw. Don't let him." He opened heavy lids. "Just . . keep him busy."

Qui-Gon nodded, already anticipating some difficult days ahead for both he and Obi-Wan.

"He's not really much of a morning person – but you already know that." He couldn't seem to stop talking, wanting to relay any little tidbit of information that would make this transition easier on Obi-Wan.

". . .prefers evening meditations . . ."

". . eighth form needs work . . ."

". . . . doesn't always do well in cold conditions . . comes from a warm climate . . ."

"tends to revert to humor in stressful situations . . ."

Qui-Gon continued to listen. He had no doubt that he and Obi-Wan would find their own way, but he was quite enjoying Xan's soft babble and for nothing would he interrupt the young man.

"Oh, . . . allergic to mahalua berries . . . found that out the hard way." A guilty little laugh. " . . .covered with little green spots for days . . ."

"Inoculations due soon . . . tend to make him tired . ."

" . .does not like chitzi roots – at all." Qui-Gon sensed there was a story there and Xan confirmed so with his next statement. "We wont go there."

" . . has an unbelievable sweet tooth . . ."

Qui-Gon could not help but smirk at this, and one of Xan's eyes slid open to regard him. Perhaps it was prudent not to mention another young padawan's penchant for sweets.

Qui-Gon noticed that Xan's voice was getting softer, the pauses between words getting longer.

". . . way too serious sometimes. Needs to laugh more . . ." A long pause. "He has a nice laugh."

The room grew quiet, and Qui-Gon could tell that Xan's strength was waning. For a long stretch of minutes, only the sound of quiet breathing could be heard.

"Just promise me . . . please," Xan said finally, his eyes opening again to meet Qui-Gon's. "That he will always be your first priority." Then softer, "That you will never . . . . hurt him."

"As I hurt you?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"That's not . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"Isn't it?" His voice was kind. He was not upset and he wanted Xanatos to know that. "Forgiveness does not mean that we forget, padawan. It can allow us to let go, to move on – but it does not mean that we forget the pain that often accompanies betrayal."

Xanatos remained silent as Qui-Gon continued. "I left you. Walked away from you when you needed me the most."

He could not help but recall Xan's earlier words.

"It was the best thing you ever could have done for me . . . it lead me to Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon did not doubt the truth behind those words, yet still, it didn't change the fact that in that one moment in time . . .

"It had to have hurt."

Xanatos was noticeably affected by Qui-Gon's words, exhaustion overriding any control he had over his emotions, his voice tremulous as he spoke.

"It was no more than I deserved."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes at those words.

"Oh, but it was." He opened his eyes, knowing the pain of that decision would forever haunt him. "You were my padawan – my responsibility. I took an oath to protect your life above my own." Qui-Gon continued. " I never . . . never should have left you." Finding the words strangely liberating. "Telos is as much my failure as you claim it to be yours."

"You have forgiven me, but you have yet to forgive yourself."

Xanatos just looked at him as if the thought had never occurred to him. Qui-Gon smiled knowingly, "Something to consider."

He let Xan think about what he'd said, and then took the conversation back to Xan's earlier question. "You have my word. Obi-Wan will always be my first priority."

This seemed to satisfy the young master and he let his eyes close once again, surprised at just how much effort it was taking to keep them open.

A peaceful silence filled the room, and Qui-Gon could feel Xanatos slipping further away from him. When he moved slightly, to get more comfortable, Xan's hand tightened around his.

"You . . . can stay. If you'd like." Too tired to fully open his eyes.

His smile was watery, a lump finally forming in his throat as he enveloped the cold hand within both of his.

"There is no other place I would rather be."

Xan turned his head more comfortably into the pillow, a small sigh escaping. "So tired."

"Then sleep, my padawan." Before he could fully utter the words, Xan had slipped into a light, but natural slumber. "Sleep."

Large, but surprisingly gentle hands cupped the side of the pale face and he reached to tuck a wayward strand of midnight hair behind the young man's ear. His eyes wandered over the peaceful unguarded expression, lovingly tracing one finger over the brow line and then down a prominent cheekbone. It was time to say good-bye.

 

XIXI

 

His internal time sense told him it was time to wake up. He did not want to wake up. Floating back towards the comforting oblivion of sleep he decided it was just too much effort to struggle through the cloudy haze that would bring him closer to consciousness.

A familiar and gentle presence touched his mind, as it did each morning. Sleepily, he acknowledged his master's presence through the bond.

_. . . few more minutes . . . please._

Obi-Wan felt the equivalent of a smile through their link, stirred slightly as the presence lingered and then slowly, almost reluctantly withdrew.

_Remember. I will be with you . . . . always._

There was an odd finality to that statement that confused him, bringing him closer to consciousness as he reached for that warm presence. It seemed to drift just beyond his touch as faint emotions flowed quietly through their bond. Love. Regret. Peace. And finally – acceptance, as that bright spirit passed gently into the Force with only the slightest of hesitations.

He woke suddenly, memories returning in a rush. Desperately he reached for the familiar presence he was so accustomed to, crying out in anguish as it slipped through his fingers.

"Nooooooooooo!"

Strong arms instantly engulfed him from behind and he was pulled tight against a broad chest. He fought to get free, quickly subsiding as the realized the futility of his actions. Letting himself be held, he only vaguely heard Qui-Gon's soothing voice and whispered reassurances.

 

XIXI

 

Outside, in the waiting area, Master's Rowan and Tahl locked sorrowful gazes as each felt the exact moment their friend and comrade joined the Force. It was Obi-Wan's tortured cry however that alerted the two padawans. Garen and Bant were both noticeably grief stricken as they embraced tightly – offering each other the comfort they could not yet offer their best friend.

 

XIXI

 

Elsewhere in the Temple, a sad and aged face turned upward as the first weak rays of sunlight penetrated the early morning clouds.

"Done well you have, Young One." Yoda's expression was grave as he reached to test the swirling eddies of the Unifying Force.

"Given him the strength and confidence to stand of his own, when come the time does."

A small, barely there smile.

"Meet again someday we shall."

XIXI

Obi-Wan had gone limp in his arms and Qui-Gon continued to rock the unresisting form. He could easily feel the youth's conflicting emotions and gave the boy a slight squeeze as Obi-Wan turned away from them, seeking instead to lose himself in a rapidly spreading numbness rather than deal with his grief. Unfortunately, that would only postpone the inevitable.

"Did you know," Qui-Gon started, in hopes of getting Obi-Wan to face his grief. "That when your master was 12 cycles old that he had a severe adverse reaction to one of his mandatory inoculations?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but it was obvious that he was listening.

"It was the standard M5 shot that is given to all padawans when they reach a certain age." Qui-Gon said, aware that Obi-Wan would be familiar with it.

"I believe I was sparring with Mace when I got the comm from the infirmary. The healer didn't seem overly troubled, but he did suggest that I make my way here with all due haste"

He couldn't help but smile in remembrance.

"It seems there was a component in the immunization that did not mix well with Xan's blood chemistry." He had Obi-Wan's full attention now he noted. "It created a rather interesting side effect."

"I heard laughter as I approached, which was my first clue that something wasn't quite right." Not that Xanatos never laughed, but this was different, completely unreserved – free of any inhibitions.

"I'm certain I will never forget the site that greeted me as I entered that exam room." Pausing for dramatic effect.

"My padawan, laughing uncontrollably – at what I had no idea until I heard a very familiar and irate voice."

"Put me down, you will!" Qui-Gon intoned in perfect imitation of Master Yoda's syntax. "Blister your royal bottom, I will."

"It seems my very intoxicated padawan - that would be the interesting little side effect I mentioned earlier," Qui-Gon reminded. "Thought it was downright hilarious to levitate the head of the Jedi Council and turn him head over heels in the air."

Obi-Wan finally turned to look at him, his shock evident. "He didn't?" Qui-Gon smiled inwardly at the absolute horror coloring the young voice.

"He did." Qui-Gon confirmed with a nod. "When I arrived, my very dignified master had lost all composure and was hanging completely upside-down, and uttering some very choice words. "

Obi-Wan continued to look at him for a long suspended moment, and then as Qui-Gon had hoped, the padawan suddenly burst out laughing. It was a beautiful and charming sound, and utterly infectious - he could not help but join in. Yet within moments, the tide shifted. The release of emotion from the laughter quickly turning to tears as the young man in his arms began to sob in earnest.

Qui-Gon was relieved when the boy turned into his embrace and accepted what little comfort he could offer. He continued to hold the youth as he poured out his grief, knowing that this was only the beginning of a very long journey. The days ahead would be difficult, but they would face them together.


	16. Epilogue

"Rise, Knight Kenobi, and take your rightful place among the ranks of your Jedi brethren." Qui-Gon's rich baritone held obvious pride.

From one knee, Obi-Wan rose, his features solemn. Qui-Gon mirrored his expression, yet a warm light lit his soft blue eyes as he continued the ritual, removing a small blade from his belt and severing the waist length padawan braid.

The new knight closed his eyes, understandably emotional. So many years of hard work and dedication – and this was the culmination of it all. Tilting his face upwards, he immersed himself within the Force, searching for a familiar presence.

The touch, when it came, was fleeting. A brief and loving caress to his senses.

_I am here, young one._

He smiled, swallowing past the small painful lump in his throat. Many times over the years he'd felt the ever watchful and beloved presence of his master – yet it had been eight long years since that smooth silken voice had echoed so intimately through his mind.

A large warm hand cupped the side of his face and he could feel Qui-Gon's unwavering love and support through their shared bond. He opened his eyes to meet the master's knowing gaze.

"Are you ready?" Qui-Gon asked.

He nodded and turned to face the Council and the small group of friends gathered. Qui-Gon remained behind him, his hands resting lightly on the youth's shoulders. There was a moment of subdued silence – and all present Council members looked to Master Yoda to make the official proclamation.

Wise and ancient eyes studied the youth thoughtfully. Hard to believe, it was, that the weight of the galaxy would someday come to rest upon those young shoulders. Yoda's eyes flickered to Qui-Gon, a sudden sadness appearing within their depths. The ever-present encroaching darkness that continued to dominate his visions was nearly upon them. Already, events were set in motion that would forever alter the fate of not only the Jedi, but the entire galaxy. The burden of this knowledge weighed heavily on his mind, as he continued to silently contemplate the youth before him.

Then suddenly, surprising everyone, the little master left his seat and made his way slowly to the center of the circular chamber, the small tap of his walking stick echoing softly on the polished marble as he came to stand directly before the newly appointed knight. Obi-Wan slid gracefully to his knees, meeting Yoda's gaze curiously.

For a moment the diminutive master merely studied the youth before him, affectionately noting the stubborn innocence that continued to cling to the more mature angles of the comely features. Yoda could sense mild confusion at his actions from the others in the room, as well as Qui-Gon's sudden concern, yet he kept his focus on the boy before him.

_Proud of the man you have become, your master would be._ Obi-Wan's eyes widened in sudden surprise at the unprecedented mind speak with Master Yoda, yet he adjusted quickly, smiling in response. He knew the little master was just as aware of Xan's presence here as he was.

There were some curious glances around the room, yet everyone remained respectfully silent, sensing the telepathic communication that was taking place.

_Great strength I see within you._ Master Yoda continued, watching with veiled pride as Obi-Wan accepted one of his rare compliments with the grace of one that was well assured of his place within the natural order of things.

_Need it, you will._ The grim certainty of that statement would have been startling, if the knight had not come to the same conclusion on his own. Yet the ready acceptance of whatever destiny the Force had in store for him was apparent in the ever-changing depths of determined sea tossed eyes.

Smiling sadly, Yoda reached to stroke two of his three fingers down a prominent cheekbone. So much heartache lay ahead – for all of them. Yet there was strength in the gaze that met his- the likes of which some would never possess, and it served to assure him that the Force had indeed chosen wisely. Obi-Wan Kenobi _would_ be their guiding light to a new hope.

_Remember, you must._ The mental voice grew more serious, wanting to depart any bit of wisdom that would help the young man through the dark times to come. _When lost all else is – always will the Force remain._

Obi-Wan continued to regard him silently, knowing there was more to be said.

_You must be sure to seek your answers, your comfort within the Force. Very important this is._

A slight wrinkle appeared between ginger brows at those words – words so eerily similar to those that Xanatos had spoken to him on his deathbed.

_Never will the Force betray you._

Yoda's voice was adamant, even as he knew that it would be years before the young man would fully understand these few and precious words of encouragement he was able to give.

Satisfied at the very least that he'd made an impression – and not wanting to totally overshadow this joyous occasion, Yoda turned to make his way back to his seat. Stopping after only a few short steps, he faced the knight once again.

_Remember_ . . . . An order more than a reminder, the subtlest of Force suggestions wrapping itself delicately around the word.

Taking his sweet time, Yoda continued his trek back to his seat as Qui-Gon urged Obi-Wan to his feet. Once settled, Yoda finally addressed the waiting and slightly perplexed audience as if there had been no interruption at all.

"Confer upon you, we do, the level of Jedi Knight." The grave tone softened as he continued. "The Force will be with you…..always."

The brilliant smile that lit the young knight's face would rival that of the setting sun –and it broadened considerably at the congratulatory hoot from Garen and the quiet applause from both the Council and his honored guests.

He turned to face Qui-Gon, wanting nothing more than to share this moment with the man who had helped to guide him along this journey.

"I believe this belongs to you." Qui-Gon said as he presented the knight with the coiled multi-colored padawan braid that served as a symbol of the youth's apprenticeship.

Obi-Wan regarded the memento fondly, vividly recalling each and every bead of achievement that had been woven into its length.

"Actually," he said as he placed his hand over Qui-Gon's and gently curled the master's fingers around the keepsake. "It belongs to you." Looking up into the soft indigo gaze.

Qui-Gon's fingers tightened minutely, the only sign to reveal just how touched he was by this very special gift.

"Thank you." A brief caress to the smiling upturned face that had come to mean so much to him.

"Now," He said, his voice betraying none of the emotion he felt, as he cast a quick glance to the small gaggle of friends gathered. "You may want to see to young Bant before the poor girl sprains something." His voice dry as noted that the padawan in question was just about to burst out of her skin with restrained excitement. He urged Obi-Wan off towards his friends and stepped back as the youth was engulfed.

"Must you always be the first to do everything?" Bant said wrapping herself around the knight as he laughed, lifting her a few inches from the ground.

"What ever do you mean?" He asked impishly, as he set her back on her feet, knowing full well what she was referring to. While both Bant and Garen were truly happy for him, they had been somewhat surprised that he – the youngest of their little group, would be the first to be knighted.

"The first to be chosen, the first to be knighted," she said dramatically, as if there was not a huge rift of time between those two events.

"Not quite the first to be knighted," A deeper voice interrupted, joining the pair as Bant released her hold and stepped back.

"Yeah, but you got a head start." Bant said to the white-haired padawan. "You're a year older than the rest of us."

"Ah, but age matters not, young padawan." Bruck shot back as Bant rolled her eyes.

"Then it's a wonder you made it out of the crèche, Chun." Garen came up behind the knight and lifted him out of the way, joining the fray with Reeft at his side.

Bruck feigned looking indignant for a moment, and proceeded to straighten his tunics and robe back into place. "That's Knight Chun to you, Muln."

Bruck joined Obi-Wan, wrapping a companionable arm around the fellow knight's shoulder. "I guess it's up to you and I now to keep these impressionable young padawans in line, eh, Kenobi?"

Qui-Gon watched the banter between the friends in amusement. If one were not well aware of the nature of the relationship between them, one would be tempted to think that Knight Chun was being slighted – or outright disrespected. While the young knight certainly did his fair share of antagonizing, he had long ago been accepted into this little ragtag group of friends. He had earned his place within their circle – and with that came a bond of friendship that would forever transcend title or rank.

"Where does the time go?" Qui-Gon asked, almost unaware that he'd said it aloud, quite literally feeling as if the last eight years had just flown by.

"Feeling old are we?" Mace asked as he joined him, the glint in his eye betraying the neutrality voice.

Giving the dark skinned councilor a sideways glance, he chose to believe the question was meant rhetorically and pointedly did not answer – which unfortunately only served to increase the other's amusement.

His regard was drawn back to Obi-Wan when the knight threw his head back and laughed at something young Reeft said. He was quite sure it had something to do with the mention of a celebration – and food of course. With Reeft, it always came back to food. He listened as the small group then began going through a list of establishments they could bless with their presence.

As Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan interact with his friends, his thoughts could not help but turn more nostalgic. Their start had not been the most idyllic by any means, yet their shared grief over Xan's passing had helped to solidify the new bond that had formed between them – a bond that appeared to have been forged by the Force itself.

It made the transition from one master to another relatively easy, on a training level. On an emotional level however - it had taken much longer. When the recovery team had returned from the power plant with news of the Sith's apparent escape, as no body was ever found – both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were forced to consider the significance of the sacrifice Xanatos had made.

It had been difficult for both of them, but eventually, through many hours of shared meditations – the Force had shown them the true path that had awaited Xanatos Chiyari. While Xanatos had miraculously managed to beat the odds twice -- once on Telos, and then again in the power plant, if only by Qui-Gon's timely intervention – his walk was forever destined to be shadowed by the dark side of the Force.

With this knowledge in hand, it had been much easier for both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to move on and accept the loss of their beloved Xanatos - the pain of which was lessened, if only slightly, by the understanding that one day they would all be reunited within the very foundation of the Force itself.

And with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon not only rediscovered his love for teaching, but was able to find some measure of peace in regards to his tumultuous relationship with Xanatos. While he had forgiven his former padawan, and had in turn been forgiven – it would be many years before he would fully put to rest all that had transpired between them. In many ways, Obi-Wan truly was his redemption – for all that could have been, and never was, with Xanatos.

That being said, the Jinn/Kenobi pairing, while very effective in the field and in battle, was not always known to share common ground when it came to matters of diplomacy or dealing with the Council. It soon became apparent to Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan walked a much finer line than he did when it came to the ethics of the Jedi Code. Where his interpretation was . . . . somewhat loose, to say the least, Obi-Wan opted for a much more by the book approach.

It certainly made things interesting at times, and Qui-Gon was very aware that his padawan's style had no doubt been instilled by Xanatos – who after going through what he did to become a knight and having a year of probation on top of that, learned early on that it was in the best interest of his career as a Jedi to follow the Code to the letter.

And while many a discussion had taken place about his often unorthodox methods, Obi-Wan would always humbly defer to his greater knowledge and experience. Yet as the youth matured, he showed a rather bold willingness to question any and every decision the master made that he did not agree with or understand. There was never one ounce of disrespect intoned in the inquiries – just a simple desire to learn and experience all that Qui-Gon had to offer. It was an aspect of the youth's training that, as a teacher, Qui-Gon greatly enjoyed and nurtured whenever possible.

The corner of his mouth quirked in remembrance of a rather enlightening discussion that had taken place early on in their relationship. The master, bound and determined to impart as much knowledge as he possibly could in regards to the Living Force, had become frustrated that his seemingly gifted padawan just could not seem to grasp the wisdom he was trying to convey.

In teaching mode, Qui-Gon patiently pointed out the necessity of a well-balanced approach to the application of the Living Force. His young padawan could not dispute this fact, yet the boy, seemingly very innocently, proceeded to point out his opinion on the importance of balance between the Living AND the Unifying Force – and asked how Qui-Gon could possibly hope to teach him such a lesson when the master in question had very little knowledge or understanding of the Unifying Force.

It was quite literally one of the very few times in his life that he'd ever been struck speechless.

He shook himself from the memory, still vaguely amused. Just one of the many times that a simple comment from Obi-Wan had forced him to look at something in a new light. However, there had been a truth in the padawan's words that could not be denied, and the master chose to take it as a challenge.

In the years since that day, he'd gained much knowledge and even more importantly – a new appreciation for all aspects of the Unifying Force. He'd also come to realize how extremely gifted his padawan was in this area – and ultimately learned to accept that just as he would never fully master the complexities of the Unifying Force, so it was true for Obi-Wan and the Living Force.

_You will compliment each other nicely._

He could not help but think back on Xan's words and realize how true they had turned out to be. He and Obi-Wan truly were a remarkable team. His happy memories took a more melancholy turn as he quite suddenly realized that he was at the inevitable end of one of the most rewarding journeys of his life.

What was he now to do with himself? Where would he go from here? What would life be like without that bright inquisitive presence at his side? Without that quicksilver mind and wry sense of humor that he'd become so accustomed to? What would life now hold for him, beyond duty? He knew all to well what a life filled with duty alone held. It was lonely, and after eight years with Obi-Wan, it was downright unattractive. He did not wish to go back.

He quite firmly pushed the thought aside for now and focused on the moment at hand, watching Obi-Wan and his friends make plans for the night's coming celebration. He reminded himself that while Obi-Wan had been officially knighted, they were still obligated to complete their mission roster – together. As they were a very effective team, they were always in high demand and usually booked for months in advance.

It wasn't at all uncommon for a knight to remain paired with his or her former master for up to a year after the knighting ceremony. It was a very seldom thing for a new knight be thrown into the field completely solo in this first year. The course of his thoughts seemed to soothe the persistent little ache that had taken up residence in his chest, and had him smiling once again.

At the fringe of the gathering, Master Yoda stood. Little groups of twos and threes spotted the chamber, everyone immersed in their own discussions. Turning away, he made his way further from the voices, towards a darker recess that was as close to a corner that this circular room would ever get.

Leaning heavily on his stick, he watched the goings on sedately. Waiting. He could feel that the presence he sought was nearby; he had but to remain patient to see if the young one would reveal himself. He did not have to wait long. A whisper of movement, the very air seeming to flex and shimmer within the Force. He felt more than saw the luminescent figure draped in an ethereal glow materialize next to him.

"Reduced to lurking in the shadows are we?" Xanatos asked smoothly, going to one knee next to the aged master, his voice filled with a fondness for the little troll that he'd never expressed while living.

"Observing, we are." Yoda corrected mildly. "A Jedi lurks not."

Smiling, Xanatos let his gaze return to Obi-Wan. For several seconds there was a comfortable silence between them as they watched the new knight. It was obvious that Xanatos had chosen only to reveal himself to Yoda at this time, and the little master kept his focus outward so as to not draw any unwanted attention their way.

"He's grown so much." Xanatos said softly, noting not only the more mature angles of the padawan's features, but the more confident and graceful way he carried himself.

"Hmmmm. Grown much he has within the Force as well." Yoda added.

In complete agreement, Xanatos could only nod. While Obi-Wan's presence within the Force had always shone brightly – over time, as the boy learned to control his grasp, the glow had softened. Yet was every bit as loving – if not more so.

The weight of his foreknowledge still weighing on him, Yoda decided to take advantage of this rare moment of communication from the other side of the Force.

"Stop it, he cannot." Yoda stated sadly, though Xanatos picked up on the tiny lilt of hope in the ancient master's voice that made the statement sound more like a question.

"He was never meant to stop it." Xanatos responded coolly, bothered by the fact that such a burden could possibly be placed on one individual – especially this one.

"The darkness will come." Xanatos continued, confirming what Yoda's own visions were telling him. "Nothing can stop it. The fate of the Jedi has been decided. You are already on borrowed time."

The impact of those words did not show outwardly on the strained little face, but Xanatos felt it nonetheless. As gifted as Yoda was – even he could not predict the future. While the master may have been prepared for such news, to actually hear it confirmed was an entirely different matter.

"Yet hope remains." Yoda added quietly, knowing that the hope he spoke of was at this point in time distant and unreachable – it waited on the other side of a chasm of darkness.

"Hope will always remain." Xanatos continued. "It is in our nature."

Yoda finally turned slightly to look at his companion. His attention still fixed on Obi-Wan, Xanatos did not notice the scrutiny. Shoulder length waves of ebony flowed down over broad shoulders; a milky white complexion housed bright gems of sapphire and noble features that were befitting the line of a Telosian King. A small wistful smile played on slightly parted rose-tinted lips as the master continued to watch his one time padawan.

"Found the peace that eluded you in life, have you?" Yoda asked knowingly, bringing Xan's attention back to him.

As an answer, the smile broadened just a little. Together, they returned their attention to the small group of friends that was now preparing to leave.

"Know you do, of his fate?" Yoda asked. While the specifics surrounding the darkness that would soon befall them remained unknown – one aspect of his visions returned time and again with resolute clarity.

Xanatos met his gaze again, and held it as Yoda continued.

"Alone, he will be. Exiled."

Xanatos let his gaze travel slowly back to Obi-Wan and watched him for a full minute before responding, his voice holding the sweet conviction of promise.

"He will never be alone."

XIXI

"Care to join me for a drink?" Mace asked. "We could finish that game of Sabbac."

Qui-Gon's response was delayed as he watched Obi-Wan and his friends edge closer to the large double doors, obviously preparing to leave.

"Sure." It was certainly better than going back to empty quarters.

It crossed his mind to send a quick curfew reminder through the bond, and then he realized the absurdity of the thought. Obi-Wan was no longer a padawan. He was a knight – no longer bound to the limits set by Qui-Gon Jinn. As if hearing his thoughts, the young man turned to him amidst his friends and flashed him an indulgent and understanding smile.

_I wont be too late, master._

It was a very sweet reassurance, that didn't need to be given. Qui-Gon smiled.

_Have fun, padawan._ The last word no longer a title, but a term of endearment.

He watched the group leave, taking with them much of the noise that had filled the chamber. With the guest of honor gone, the remaining council members broke up as well – everyone heading in different direction.

He fell into step next to Mace, only half listening to the man's dialogue as they headed towards the north tower. With a determined effort he let go of the last of the nostalgia that had so recently plagued him. Time, it seemed, would march on. He would not dwell on what could not be changed. He would cherish whatever time remained with Obi-Wan at his side. Joining in the discussion as they continued on, Qui-Gon vowed to make it an early evening. While tonight was for celebrations, duty would once again resume with the rising of the sun.

Tomorrow, they would depart for Naboo.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story but there are some vignettes in this universe to follow. Remember that this is an AU. What happens in canon is not necessarily what will happen in this universe. I like to think that with the new history here between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan that the things will happen differently when Anakin comes into the picture.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of a series of vignettes in this universe with no rhyme or reason to timeline.

_A Gift_

The tiny form tossed somewhat restlessly on his little cot. His sleep was not as restful as it should have or could have been. While the growing body needed the nightly rest, the spirit within was just too excited to allow all elements of sleep to completely claim him.

He'd always loved this time of year. The Winter Solstice was a week long celebration culminating in a special day of gift giving and thankfulness spent with those you love and care about the most.

While all Jedi were welcomed to celebrate, and most did – to varying degrees, it was the Initiates Wing that seemed to find the most joy in the season. The crechelings were too young to fully understand the true meaning of the festivities, and the older padawans were much too reserved to fully participate in the bubbling excitement that had once been so enchanting for them.

Yet this year was even more special for a certain ginger haired initiate. Obi-Wan Kenobi had recently been chosen as an apprentice. And while he was very happy and proud of this, he was also humbled that he had been chosen so early- at nine standard cycles in fact. He could only hope that the others would be as lucky.

This particular Winter Solstice was special to him because it would be his first spent with his new master – or at least it would be if said master were not currently away on a mission. Xanatos had not promised to return for the celebration, he had not even promised to try – as even one so young as Obi-Wan knew, duty must always come first. Still, he had harbored the tiniest of hope that he would be able to spend this most special day with the man who would shape his future as a Jedi.

 

The corridors were dim and quiet as he made his way from the landing platform. It was very late, or very early – depending on ones point of view. He was tired and worn, and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed for a few hours of much needed and well deserved rest. Yet as he came to a certain juncture, his steps hesitated. One corridor would lead him to his quarters and his much longed for bed and the other would lead him to the Initiates Wing where his new apprentice was currently housed.

While is mind continued to debate which direction to choose, his feet had already decided, moving of their own accord towards his young padawan. The night master on duty waved him through with a smile and he made his way to the boy's room. Sitting on the edge of the youth's bed he took in the relaxed and peaceful expression – having no idea that it was his presence in the hall that had soothed the child's uneasy sleep.

Obi-Wan reluctantly pulled himself from the depths of previously elusive sleep. Turning in his bed, heavy lids pried their way open – vaguely aware that he was being watched. He blinked several times, certain that the form before him was an illusion. When that familiar smile quirked slightly in amusement, he woke fully, sitting upright in his bed.

"Master!" He threw his arms around the man.

"Shhhhh," Xanatos indicated his sleeping roommate. Garen continued to snore gently, his slumber showing no signs of the disturbance.

"Come." Xanatos said. He smiled encouragingly and gave a conspirational wink at Obi-Wan's questioning gaze. He waited for the boy to get dressed and led him from the wing. His padawan obviously assumed they were going back to their quarters and was more than a bit surprised when Xanatos led him in the opposite direction. He looked up, but his master's expression gave away nothing. They rounded a corner and Xanatos stepped behind him and covered his eyes, leading him along carefully.

"Close your eyes," A soft husky whisper in his ear as one hand was removed. He felt a rush of cool air as the hand returned and he was ushered forward, the ground becoming soft beneath his feet. A few more steps and the hands were removed and he opened his eyes. His heart may have skipped a beat at the site that greeted him.

A blanket of untouched snow glimmered in the pale moonlight giving the garden an ethereal glow as large flakes fell in soft cascades all around them. Obi-Wan stood motionless in their midst, in total awe of the scene before him.

Being from a very warm climated world, Obi-Wan had never been overly fond of snow. It was cold, it was messy, and at some point Bruck Chun always managed to beam a rather hard chunk of the stuff off his head. But this, this was . . . beautiful. He looked down at his feet, then behind him where they'd entered. Their boot prints were the only to be found – and before him lay the most unblemished and perfect snow.

Xanatos stood silently as Obi-Wan took in the scene before him. He knew the child was not overly fond of the cold, or snow, but he hoped to give him a new appreciation for the fluffy white substance.

He closed his eyes and turned his face upwards letting the cool air wrestle away the last remnants of grogginess, feeling suddenly refreshed. He was very accustomed to snowfall, Telos having it's own short but beautiful wintry season.

_The first snowfall of the season is special, and should always be shared with a very special someone if at all possible._

He looked to Obi-Wan as those words echoed through his mind in Qui-Gon's familiar baritone. He was twelve when Qui-Gon had brought him here under these very same circumstances. The current rift between them immediately overshadowed the memory, and as happy as it was, he couldn't help feeling suddenly sad.

Obi-Wan sensed the shift in his mood and looked up at him. Xanatos immediately let thoughts of Qui-Gon go and focused on the bright changeable eyes looking up at him so innocently. He smiled, and received a dimpled smile in return. _Focus on the moment_. There was no one else he'd rather share this first snowfall with.

He held out his hand and Obi-Wan immediately placed his smaller hand within. Even now, he still felt a slight tightening in his chest at the unconditional trust this boy placed in him. Obi-Wan would follow him anywhere, and he vowed, as he often did, to never lead this very special child astray.

Squeezing the hand he held softly, he looked to Obi-Wan and then at the freshly fallen snow, a mischievous glint in his eye. They took off at the same time, running across the snow-covered garden. At some point they joined both hands and began to spin round and round, faster and faster, finally letting go and falling to the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs and laughter and rolling down a small incline.

Still laughing, Obi-Wan sat up. His master was sprawled on the ground looking up at the falling snow. Through the bond he could sense contentment and genuine enjoyment. It made him happy. He turned his own face upwards, letting the cold little flakes land and melt on the warm skin of his face. When he opened his eyes, Xanatos was watching him.

He swallowed hard, suddenly horrified to realize he was about to cry. Never in his life had he felt as special, as loved as he did this very moment. He wanted to share his feelings, but was overwhelmed, unsure where he would even begin. He found the words he wanted to say too difficult, but in the end they were unnecessary. The love he felt was reflected in eyes that were all too aware of his every emotion, and traveled easily through their bond to let him know that all his feelings were most definately returned.

Obi-Wan let his eyes roam the garden, knowing that all too soon this moment would end. This magical moment in time that had been created just for him, a gift from his master. It was a moment he would forever cherish, and never forget.

All too soon the area would be swarming with crechelings and initiates and anyone else who wished to enjoy the very rare snow. It would last for only one day – and try as one might, not a trace of it would be found the following day.

He would run and play with Bant, Garen, and Reeft as they did each year on this special day. He would laugh as Bant scolded Reeft for eating the snow, telling him all the while of the unknown chemicals that must surely be used and how dangerous it was to eat. Reeft would not care of course - after all, he ate the snow every year and it had yet to cause him any _lasting_

Here, now. This moment was just for him. A gift from his master. Xanatos reached over to ruffle his wet spiky hair, breaking him from his reverie.

"Come," said the master. "There is much more snow to be christened."

END.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Approx 1 yr after the events in Chapter 5. That would be the Bruck/Obi sparring scene :)
> 
> Warning: No slash here I promise, but there are references here to a physical attraction between two characters of the same gender.
> 
> Note of Thanks: To Laura of Maychoria and Wyndmir for your excellent beta skills.

It really didn't matter which way he turned. Whether it was to the right or to the left – it was always the same. He had explored a variety of positions over the course of the never-ending evening, yet none held any real or lasting comfort. Tossing restlessly he settled to his left side, willing himself to be still. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pictured himself on a bed of soft charmilli feathers . . . floating peacefully towards the oblivion of sleep. Drifting and floating . . . floating and drifting . . .

He held tightly to the image for as long as he could, reluctantly letting it slip away with a weary sigh, when he realized his entire body was tensing in an effort to maintain the illusion. It was, after all, pretty hard to imagine a bed of feathers when in reality the cot he currently occupied felt about as comfortable as a slab of marquilite.

Shifting to his back, his eyes wandered over the same ceiling tiles he'd already spent far too much time counting the previous hour. Looking to the right, he'd long since discerned there was no comfort to be found in that direction - a bright sliver of light pierced the otherwise dark room and served to remind him of the activity of the med ward beyond his door. Of course, there wasn't actually much activity to be had at this hour, but that hardly seemed relevant in his current state of discontent.

Oh how he hated this place!

The beds were uncomfortable, the blankets were too thin, the Force be-damned light beneath the door was too bright, and that smell – that nauseating smell of bacta and disinfectant was pungent enough to trigger a painful gag reflex should he decide to actually take a full breath of air. Two days out of the tank and he'd had more than enough of this place.

Only minor comfort was found in the knowledge that he was home – safe within Temple walls. Which was the only reason, he concluded, that his rather large and protective master was not sound asleep in the chair next to his bed.

_Well at least one of us is resting comfortably._

Obi-Wan was beginning to think it was quite reasonable to conclude that he'd never been exposed to such discomforting accommodations in his entire life. Which was pretty extraordinary considering some of the unfavorable conditions he'd endured over the course of his apprenticeship. There was the time he'd been forced to sleep in the mud on Mokandu, oh yes, and in the rain on Boanti IV. Not to mention sleeping in two feet of snow on Haloth-Hiri. Obi-Wan couldn't help but suppress a shiver at the memory of that one and decided he'd had enough of that line of thought. Besides, unless one cared to examine such things too closely, which at this time he did not, it was sufficed to say that current discomfort would always override even the most dire of remembered circumstances.

Another misery-tainted sigh filled the room, the Padawan unaware of the pout that threatened the corners of his mouth. He was on the verge of being petulant, but with no Master around to appreciate it and take pity on him, he merely settled on forlorn.

He wanted his own bed, his own pajamas and his own damn pillow. Force – he'd even settle for the muffled sound of Qui-Gon's snoring in the next room. With an exaggerated sense of longing he envisioned himself climbing into his own comfy little nest of warmth and security and wrapping himself in the fluffy, lightweight comforter that Xanatos had given him for his fourteenth naming day.

The idea - when it came - was so startlingly obvious that he found it hard to believe it had taken him so long to consider of it. He sat up so suddenly that the room was set to spinning and he closed his eyes against a rising wave of nausea. Once he was certain the meager contents of his stomach would stay exactly where they were meant to, he opened his eyes – a gleam of determination sparkling within changeable depths.

"Lights." When the room flooded with a bright wash of color, he quickly spoke again. "Quarter power." Moving to the edge of the bed, Obi-Wan let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting as he prepared to stand. While beyond exhausted, his decision had given him a refreshing burst of energy and he moved with purpose.

Rising slowly, he tested his balance, staying close to the cot should he need its support. Finding it satisfactory, he gently stretched his side, moving his body through a wide range of motions. The wound itself was no longer visible, but it was marginally tender. Nothing to worry about so long as he took it easy.

A hopeful search of the small closet and bureau proved fruitless, showing no trace of tunics or robe. Disappointed, but far from deterred, he dubiously eyed the only other article of clothing available in the room. Beige synthsuede slippers peeked at him from their hiding spot beneath the torturous cot.

Spreading his toes on the cool tile, he bypassed them without a second thought. Too often his feet were imprisoned in leather – and while his boots were very comfortable, and custom-made to withstand a variety of elements, nothing compared to the freedom of roaming barefoot whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was one of his little known and much treasured pleasures.

Entering the small 'fresher, he activated the overhead lights. While it appeared he would have to traverse the Temple in his pajamas, he certainly didn't intend to have bed head whilst he did so. The lighting in the tiny unit was harsh and unforgiving and Obi-Wan was a bit surprised at the pallor of his skin and the crescent-shaped smudges under his eyes that were a clear testament to his exhaustion.

Filling his hands with cool water, he gently splashed the liquid over his face and neck. Damp hands ran through ginger spikes in an effort to bring them to some semblance of attention. He gave up when he realized that nothing short of a thorough soak was going to tame the wayward locks. For a fleeting moment he was tempted to slip out of his clothes and into the adjacent stall – but for now, the call of his bed far outweighed the appeal of a nice hot shower. But it was a very near thing.

As he made his way towards the exit, he turned to take one last look at the sparse, depressing little room, glad to be leaving.

"Lights off."

The padawan healer on duty looked up from his datapad as Obi-Wan approached, eyeing him curiously.

"Do you need something, Padawan Kenobi?"

"Yes, Padawan Treven, I do. I need to sleep in my own bed."

His voice was firm in its resolve. He had no intention of going back to the room he'd just vacated.

"I see." The senior padawan, easily three years his elder, did not seemed moved. Though he did pull up the padawan's records.

"Healer S'ierge ordered two days of observation post bacta."

Treven read from the screen and scrolled down further. "You're set to be released into your master's care at . . . eighth hour?" It was obvious that Treven was wondering why the padawan couldn't just wait until morning.

Obi-Wan nodded, but stood firm. He had to get out of here.

Now.

"I would like to sign myself out." The weariness he felt was evident in his voice. "I . . I just need to sleep in my own bed." It was as simple as that. All would be right with the galaxy if he could just make it to his quarters and climb into his own familiar haven of pillows and comfort.

Padawan Treven scrolled back up the chart to Obi-Wan's demographics and smiled. Obi-Wan returned the smile, well aware of the other's amusement. It wasn't until a padawan turned eighteen cycles that he or she could sign out of the med ward on his or her own.

"Two months past our eighteenth cycle, are we?" Treven smirked knowingly.

"Yes sir." Obi-Wan perked just slightly, obviously proud and just a touch triumphant.

Still, it was very possible that he could be refused. Gazing towards the exit, Obi-Wan held in check a wild impulse to run like a madman towards the sliding doors that would free him from stench of bacta. In the end it was his release date in the morning that was the deciding factor and he breathed a sigh of relief at Treven's next words.

"I will release you," The Healer Apprentice's voice firmed with the following stipulation. "But you must return with your master at eighth hour for a final exam and your official discharge from the Ward."

"Of course." Obi-Wan readily agreed and was already edging towards the exit.

"Shall I comm your master?" Treven asked.

Obi-Wan glanced at the chrono. It was just past 1st hour.

"No. I'm sure he's snoring soundly." He flashed the padawan his trademark cheeky grin. "Wouldn't want to be the one responsible for disturbing some much needed beauty sleep." With a slight bow of gratitude to the elder padawan, Obi-Wan gladly made his way to freedom as Treven returned to his datapad.

It was a bit slower going than he'd expected. The lifts that would take him to the Master's Level were the farthest from the ward. He trudged along slowly, more than a little frustrated by the slow pace he was being forced to keep. The cool air of the drafty corridor was a welcome relief to the slow, warm fire that was beginning to burn beneath his skin. Halfway to his destination he felt a slight pull in his side and was oblivious to the fine sheen of perspiration setting his face aglow.

When he finally reached the lifts he sought, all he could do was lean against the marbled wall in an effort to garner the strength needed for the remainder of his journey. His gaze traveled back the way he'd come, but going back was not an option. Besides, the hardest part of the journey was behind him, or so he figured. When Obi-Wan finally pushed the button it took him several long minutes to realize that nothing had happened. Trying again, he activated the call button and closed his eyes. Again, it took longer than it should have, but in his current state, he never noticed.

By the time the lift did arrive, he was able to fully stand once again and his breathing had returned to normal. The doors parted and he moved to enter, stopping short at the sight that greeted him.

**XIXI**

 

Tossing his workout clothes and water bottle into his bag, Bruck Chun dressed in his regulation casuals and donned his cloak for the short trip back to his quarters. His rendition of the Flowing Silthrim Kata at half speed and the hot soak in the jet tub had gone a long way in relaxing him in both body and mind. For some reason sleep had been elusive this eve and after an hour or so of turning restlessly in his bed, he'd found himself here in the training salle.

Now, however, he was beginning to feel the lateness of the hour as he glanced at his personal timepiece. It was just after first hour, and sleep was finally looking to be a real possibility. Dimming the lights with a touch of the Force, he left the training rooms behind him.

Bypassing the lifts he normally took, the padawan suddenly paused. The electronic lock signaling the lift was closed for repairs had finally been removed. He hadn't even noticed when he passed them earlier. Pushing the activation button, he waited patiently. When a few minutes passed and nothing happened, he tried again.

Nothing.

Bruck had just turned away, moving to the next set of lifts when he heard the hiss of the hydraulics as his ride arrived and the doors parted.

Pausing, he eyed the ride dubiously, understandably hesitant. Yet as he took a step back, a small nudge from the Force urged him forward. It was such a simple and subtle command that he found himself on the other side of the closing doors before realizing he'd actually moved at all.

Dropping his pack into the corner, Bruck relaxed back against the wall for the short ride. At this hour he wasn't expecting to run into anyone, so he was mildly surprised when the lift started to slow only half way to his destination.

Straightening immediately, he adjusted his cloak and took a more formal stance. Yet as the elevator slowed his gaze was drawn from the doors to the ceiling, as a curious grating noise made itself known. It grew increasingly louder then disappeared all together as the lift halted rather abruptly.

Serious doubts as to the safety of the lift had him almost reaching for his bag. Yet as the doors slid open – caution and its rationale were all but forgotten as he came face to face with his lifetime nemesis, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They stood speechless and uncertain, in obvious shock at the site of the other. The endless suspended moment broken only when the automatic doors attempted to cycle and Obi-Wan faltered indecisively.

When Bruck smirked knowingly, the padawan's eyes narrowed and he resolutely stepped forward, forcing the other to retreat slightly. Bruck watched as Obi-Wan moved to the opposite side of the lift, a guarded expression sliding into place.

Lift safety momentarily forgotten, Bruck again relaxed against the wall and openly eyed his agemate. Obi-Wan resolutely ignored him, eyes forward, as the lift continued it's upward journey.

Curious as to the youth's attire, Bruck let his gaze rake over the lithe frame of his companion, perfectly aware that Obi-Wan sensed the weight of his stare. The white, healer issue nightshirt pulled snugly across the shoulders and the soft clingy material seemed to hug each line of muscle and the gentle curve of hips. Baggy, light blue sleep pants gathered loosely at bare ankles, and a bleached brow arched inquiringly at the pale and naked feet.

Obviously the young man had just come from the Healers Ward. He continued his visual perusal upward, pausing as he took note of the arm wrapped protectively around the padawan's middle, favoring his left side. Interesting. He continued upward, finally noticing the feverish glow covering the wary profile.

He must have stared just a bit too long, as Obi-Wan turned his head, meeting the gaze challengingly. He smirked again, more out of habit than anything. His companion snorted softly and looked away, dismissing him.

The spike of resentment he felt was old – and all too familiar. Bruck curtailed it with effort; letting the cutting comment that wanted to spill forth die on his lips. He'd come too far to slide back into habits that were better off forgotten. And as Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and applied more pressure to his obvious injury, Bruck released his conflicting feelings into the Force. Too much in the way of unfinished business lay between them, and he reluctantly acknowledged his own hand in the lingering animosity.

Straightening, he turned away and faced the doors as well, giving the other a modicum of privacy. Such an old game, this was. To purposefully antagonize and bait the other, looking for some type of response – good or bad. Usually it was the latter, and more often than not it had gotten them both in a good deal of trouble.

Out of the corner of his eye Bruck saw Obi-Wan sway and reach to steady himself. The padawan was just beginning to wonder if he should really be concerned when the lift suddenly lurched. A horrible screeching noise of grinding gears and durasteel echoed loudly in the confined space as both boys reached to brace themselves. The light above flickered indecisively and then gave out all together as the compartment was plunged into darkness.

In the ensuing silence, Bruck was hyper aware of his heart beating fast and furious to a steady cadence in his ears. Quickly calming, he steadied his breathing, and in doing so could clearly hear the short panting breaths of his companion on the other side of the lift.

"Kenobi?" He whispered into the darkness, unmoving.

A telling pause met his inquiry, then finally, "What?"

The voice was steady but coming from a lower altitude than his. While he'd remained standing, Obi-Wan apparently had not been so lucky.

A sudden buzzing flooded the tiny space like the sound of a thousand insects. A brilliant flash of light exploded then pulsed waveringly before fading to nothing. Seconds later it was replaced with the dim yellow glow of the emergency light strip along the perimeter of the lift. Obi-Wan was clearly visible in the corner.

Sinking to his knees, Bruck stretched out with his Force senses. The lift felt secure enough, but it was trapped between floors several levels up. Moving carefully to the emergency panel, he spared a quick glance for Kenobi. The padawan was in obvious pain, eyes closed as he took slow, deep, measured breaths.

Bruck flipped open the panel and activated the small comm unit. Nothing. Not an ounce of power in the small device. He tried several times, to no avail.

The only other option was the red emergency button to the right of the comm. He pressed it, and instantly regretted his decision to do so. The resulting noise was obscenely loud and had the unfortunate result of startling his companion. A hiss of heightened pain echoed in the compartment as Bruck released his hold.

"Sorry." Bruck said absently.

Obi-Wan gave no indication of hearing him at all, and Bruck easily felt the weak grasp of the Force as the padawan attempted to access its healing powers.

Settling carefully, Bruck studied his companion momentarily before placing a cool hand to the overheated forehead. Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, startled by the sudden contact.

"Force!" Bruck removed his hand, clearly alarmed. "What the Sith are you doing running around in this condition, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, perhaps feeling properly chastised, and more than a little vulnerable in his current weakened state – not to mention present company. He looked away as he finally found his voice. "I was just beginning to wonder at that myself."

Leaning back, Bruck ignored the grumpy tone and craned his neck to look at all the angles of the small space - actively exploring possible options as he sought the Force for guidance.

"We're secure for the moment, but I don't want to spend any more time here than necessary." Bruck knew that had he been by himself he could maybe cut his way free or perhaps even pry the door open with the Force – but such action could jeopardize the stability of the lift. His gaze slid back to Obi-Wan. He could get himself out in a hurry if he had to, but he wasn't sure if he could get them both out.

"And as loud as that damn bell was, unless someone happened to be in the corridors, I don't think it would even be heard this time of night."

His attention was drawn back to Obi-Wan as another hiss of pain emerged, the padawan doing his best to find a comfortable, pain-free position.

In consideration, Bruck looked around for available items of use as his training began to permeate the sudden shock of current circumstances. With very little to work with, he began to remove his cloak.

"Lie down." He said, continuing to wriggle out of the comfortable weight of the voluminous material.

Obi-Wan eyed him warily and made no move to comply. But as Bruck balled the cloak into a makeshift pillow, the padawan quickly understood his intentions. Yet his reluctance was evident and his gaze alternated between the cloak and the neutral gaze of his agemate.

"You need to relieve some of the pressure on that wound." Bruck surprised himself as he waited patiently for Obi-Wan's decision. Finally, reluctantly, Obi-Wan obeyed and lowered himself carefully to the floor as Bruck positioned the pillow.

The effect was immediate, pain easing momentarily as a soft sigh filled the space and golden lashes fluttered closed in brief reprieve.

Bruck considered his patient closely, and then scanned the lift once again. "We can't wait for someone to find us." He decided. "It's the middle of the night – and you need a healer."

"You. . . go." Obi-Wan said weakly, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"No." Bruck stated firmly, noting that sparkling eyes now regarded him intently. "I don't think that's a good idea." He finished. The Force was strongly urging him to stay right where he was. And with that – there was only one available option.

Reaching along the ever present and comforting training bond he shared with his master – he roused her slowly, doing his best not to alarm her. She was sleeping, as she'd been when he'd quietly left earlier this evening. Still, she woke quickly at his mental touch, instantly aware of possible peril.

_What is it, child?_ She asked through the bond, within seconds being able to determine that the danger was not directly related to her apprentice.

Explaining the entire evening and how he got to be in his current predicament would have taken far too much time. Instead – he opened himself more fully to the bond and showed her.

He felt her sigh, and a loving exasperation filled their connection.

_Oh, the dilemmas you get yourself into, child._

He sensed there was much more to say on that subject, but she too could sense that there was very real danger to Obi-Wan's health if time were left to linger.

The master was already moving for her clothes and pulling her thick russet hair away from her face.

_How is he?_

Bruck opened his eyes to study his agemate. Obi-Wan was not resting comfortably at all, pain and fever causing him to fidget restlessly.

Helpless concern carried easily through the bond as the padawan replied.

_He should be in the Healers Ward, Master._

Calm reassurance flooded the bond. _I'm on my way to collect Master Jinn, padawan. We'll be there soon._

Subtle relief met her words, and he gave her the equivalent of a mental nod, returning his attention to Obi-Wan. However, it appeared that his master was not yet finished with him.

_You have a captive audience, my padawan._

Momentarily startled by her words, Bruck gave her his full regard once again.

_There is an opportunity here to put old issues to rest – if you so wish._

And quite suddenly, he had the unsettling feeling that all of this had not merely been chance at all.

Obviously his master agreed.

_Mysterious, the ways of the Force can be._ She added knowingly and then promptly changed the subject, focusing on the task at hand. _Keep him comfortable and do what you can. We'll be there soon._

A curious aquamarine gaze met his when he opened his eyes.

"Help is on the way." He said lightly, knowing that Obi-Wan was aware of the telepathic conversation.

Outwardly, there was no noticeable response to his words. But through the Force he could sense the palpable relief that they brought.

They sat in silence for some time, the tension filled silence of earlier replaced with preoccupation. Obi-Wan did his best to keep comfortable and regulate his temperature, while Bruck contemplated his master's advice.

There was something he'd been wanting to say to Obi-Wan for quite some time, yet the opportunity just never seemed to present itself. He could sense now was his time to do so . . . but still, he hesitated. It wasn't something one just blurted out after all. It was a sensitive issue and should be handled as such.

"Ah . . ." Bruck started, then cleared his throat. "So. . .what happened?" He asked a bit lamely, referring to the obvious injury and working up the courage to broach more serious matters.

"Knife wound." Heavy lids lifted partially to regard the white haired padawan, then closed again as he continued. "Assassination attempt on the prime minister of Abar-Gru."

Bruck waited, but Obi-Wan did not continue. In fact, he noted that some of the tension had returned. The apprentice guarding himself once again, as if expecting an attack of some sort, whether it be verbal or physical.

_Hells! Why does this have to be so damned difficult?_

They lapsed into silence again as Bruck's memory was drawn back to that horrid display in the salle almost a year's cycle ago. Just the thought of it caused his face to heat and the tips of his ears to burn. Oh, the horrible, hateful and hurtful things he'd said.

Shamefaced, he looked away, thankful that Obi-Wan was in no condition to be aware of his sudden discomfort. Yet as terrible as that day had been – it would forever be remembered as a turning point for him.

Never in his life had he felt so completely and utterly out of control, his heart and mind racing with confusion and uncertainty. He'd made his way quickly back to his quarters and found his master waiting for him - his distress broadcasting loudly through their bond. She said nothing, simply waited for him to open up to her.

He couldn't speak at first, was at a loss as to where to start. All he could do was drop to his knees before her, his arms going around her waist – feeling completely helpless and adrift, terrified over his loss of control. She held him for long moments, giving him all the time he needed to sort out his feelings.

In the end they were just so complex that he couldn't begin to explain them verbally. He let his shields drop completely, let all the confusion, uncertainty and lingering insecurities of his childhood swamp their connection. It was a turbulent sea of emotions that would have tossed him mercilessly from one wave to the next were it not for the calm and steady presence of his master, a buoy of security in the midst of the unexpected storm.

He felt more than heard her sigh of relief, somehow understanding that she'd been waiting – perhaps even expecting - just such a break from him for some time now.

_Let go, child. To be truly free, you must let it all go._

For the first time, he realized how tightly he'd been holding to his fears. Fear of not being chosen, fear of not being good enough, fear that this amazing woman who took a chance on him would someday realize her monumental error and turn him away. Fear that all of her patience, love and understanding had never really been meant for him.

He let her see it all, the good and the bad – all that was him, he gave her access to. Only in doing so did Bruck realize that he'd never fully let her in. She had long ago earned his respect, and it had taken a little longer to earn his love, and longer still to earn his trust. Yet a part of him had always been held back – until that day.

He'd had no idea what a monumental burden he was carrying, until that very moment, when he could feel every bit of its weight on his shoulders. He wanted to let it go, but was unsure how to do so.

_Help me. Please help me._

His plea was filled with a raw desperation that came from the depths of his soul.

As he looked up into her face, he was unaware of the tears than ran freely down his own, until she cupped his cheeks and used her thumbs to wipe away the moisture.

Her smile was gentle and compassionate and so full of love that all he could do was hide his face in her cloak, embracing her all the more tightly – so thankful that this woman had seen something within him that not even he knew existed.

Bruck smiled in remembrance, easy to do now – being so far removed from the actual turmoil he'd experienced that day. And while the results had been undeniable – finally forging a true and deep connection with his master, the means of getting there had left him raw and exhausted. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. In the long run however, it had been worth it. For the first time in his life he felt a sense of contentment that could only come from peace within. He'd found his place in the galaxy and was secure in his destiny. The comfort that it had brought him was beyond measure. And once obtained, it had been easy to let slip away the last of his insecurities.

A quiet moan of pain drew his attention back to Obi-Wan, and Bruck was forced to reconsider his last thought. No so easy to let go it appears – based on his initial reaction to Obi-Wan when the padawan entered the lift. It appears old habits really do die a slow and lingering death.

Frowning as he focused more intently on the youth's vitals, he realized the fever was getting worse.

Bruck moved closer, his knee coming into contact with the forgotten workout bag. Suddenly remembering the half empty water bottle, he rummaged for it quickly. Removing the cap as he handed it to Obi-Wan.

"Here, drink this." The hand that grasped the container trembled with fever and Bruck reached to steady the grip, helping to guide the fluid to eager lips. However, only a few small sips were managed before the padawan turned his head away in refusal. When Bruck tried to offer more, a small sound of distress was accompanied by a barely audible utterance.

"What?" The older apprentice leaning closer.

"…sick." It seemed the only word that could be managed, but was sufficient.

"Oh," He said a bit helplessly. Concerned about dehydration, he'd not considered how the water would settle once it hit the stomach. It certainly wouldn't improve matters at all if vomiting became an issue.

_Right. No more water._

He thought for a moment, an idea occurring to him suddenly. "We've got to get that fever down." Said as much in warning to Obi-Wan as it was to himself as Bruck slid closer once again, training overriding any hesitation over what he was about to attempt.

Placing one hand on Obi-Wan's forehead, the other slid up and under the nightshirt to settle on the unhealed wound.

"Don't move." He said quietly, closing his eyes as Obi-Wan opened his.

Scorching hot flesh quivered at the cool contact of this hand as he probed the wound within Force. Immediately he could sense . . . something, a foreign presence that may have been missed during the initial exam following the stabbing. It probably wouldn't even be visible to the naked eye – a fleck or chip from whatever instrument had been used to pierce the padawan.

The tissue around the particle was inflamed and well on it's way to full blown infection. Focusing more precisely on the irritated muscle, Bruck wrapped a soothing balm of healing Force energy around the infected area. It wasn't enough to alleviate all of the pain, but it certainly took the bite out of it as evidenced by the noticeable easing of the tight abdominal muscles beneath his fingertips.

Aware that Obi-Wan had been trying to regulate his body temperature for some time now, Bruck now turned his attention to the task. It was a relatively simple procedure really, but it required three things that were currently in short supply for his fellow padawan – focus, precision and a fair amount of energy.

"Let me help you." Bruck's intent transferred easily through the Force – as did his understanding of Obi-Wan's difficulty. Self-healing was always harder to grasp – especially under conditions such as these.

Thrown by the genuine concern that Bruck was projecting, Obi-Wan acquiesced cautiously with a speculative glance at the other. Sensing the brief hesitation, Bruck waited patiently while the other found his center within the Force and began the process.

It wasn't until Obi-Wan faltered that Bruck chose to intervene and make his presence known. While he could have easily taken over the task completely – instead he choose to support the other and guide him to the next step. Yet as he continued to maintain a discreet and non-invasive distance, Obi-Wan began to slowly relinquish control of the procedure, unconsciously allowing Bruck to take over completely. While it was no doubt due to the youth's exhaustion, there had been a measure of trust in the action that surprised Bruck.

Opening his eyes, Bruck was very much unprepared for the spontaneous and rather inappropriate thoughts that inundated him. The restless movements had ceased, the fever calmed, if only marginally. Obi-Wan's eyes were closed, facing away from him – suddenly so peaceful . . . and beautiful.

His hands fell away and it was with supreme effort that the touch did not resemble a caress. Obi-Wan turned to him at the movement but did not open his eyes. While the fever still raged, it was not so dangerously high as it had been mere moments ago. Bruck studied his companion unobtrusively for a long moment before uttering a soft sigh and releasing his undeniable attraction to the will of the Force.

Coming to terms with his predilection for male company when it came to more intimate matters of socializing had been relatively easy compared to dealing with his unwilling attraction to one Obi-Wan Kenobi. It had taken a lot more time - and meditation - to accept his feelings in regards to the fair-haired padawan. But he now believed that he recognized it for what it was: infatuation, pure and simple. And it was something he sincerely hoped would fade with the passage of time. The fact that he seemed to have no say in the matter what so ever was immensely infuriating, however.

Beyond being thrown together in the same age group since their days in the crèche – he actually knew very little about Kenobi personally, other than the perpetual antagonism they seemed to bring out in each other, that is. The attraction, he therefore concluded, was purely physical, and that he could at least understand. Not that he liked it, mind you, but it was tangible and recognizable. One look from beneath a sweep of those ginger lashes was enough to make his heart (among other things) flutter pleasantly against his will.

Yet acceptance of his feelings, while hard won, had finally come. And it was the memory of that awful day in the salle a year's cycle ago that had helped him to find it. The sharp shame he still felt at the recollection was more than enough deterrent to ever allow such base emotions control over him again. And it certainly didn't hurt that the padawan in question seemed completely oblivious to the affect he had not only on Bruck – but others as well.

Finally, jewel toned eyes opened to meet his and Bruck quickly found something else to look at. Obi-Wan regarded him curiously.

"What did you do?"

"It's a nerve block. Only temporary I'm afraid. It won't last long." Bruck answered.

"How . . . ?" Clearly surprised.

"I've always had a penchant for healing." He shrugged. In another life as a matter of fact, he may have been perfectly content to be a Healer. "I've taken several elective courses whenever we're on planet." Somewhat diffidently he added, "This is actually the first time I've ever attempted it on my own."

"Oh," was the quiet response as the padawan continued to regard him questioningly. It was obvious that Bruck wasn't the only one coming to the realization that there were many things they didn't know about each other.

"You've got an infection." Bruck explained what he'd sensed within the Force. "They'll probably have to open you back up." Looking away from the penetrating gaze as he continued. "Which will also mean more time in the tank no doubt."

A subtle but unmistakable spike of alarm brought Bruck's focus back to changeable eyes and it was Obi-Wan's turn to look away. "You could sense this?"

The question was asked more out of apprehension than in any doubt of his diagnosis and Bruck nodded. While it was clear that Obi-Wan had belatedly sensed something was wrong, he'd apparently been unable to pin point the exact cause of the infection.

Bruck was curious and very much aware of the lingering trepidation the other felt about being returned to the bacta tank. It wasn't an uncommon thing really, but for some it was worse than others. Some found the small tank and warm fluid to be soothing and womblike. Most were ambivalent one way or the other – but some, like Obi-Wan he was beginning to suspect, found bacta submersion to be very disturbing and confining. It was most unfortunate really, as recovery time could take even longer as the patient is subconsciously fighting the treatment and using valuable energy reserves unnecessarily.

"You know . . ." Bruck started a bit awkwardly. He was uncomfortable with his train of thought, but wanted very much to be able to put the other padawan at ease. "When I have to go into the tank I imagine myself on Kelistria, master's home world. I still remember the first time she took me there. I'd never seen such wide-open spaces. Miles and miles of green fields and hills, one could run all day and never reach the end." He knew this from experience and a small smile curved his lips at the memory. "Your body may have to stay in the tank, but your mind can take you anywhere."

Obi-Wan was regarding him more than a little curiously, though a part of his gaze said 'easier said than done.'

"You _must_ have such a place?" Bruck prompted.

Silent and introspective, Obi-Wan gave his words serious consideration. Moments later Bruck caught an unguarded glimpse of glimmering waves, unbridled laughter, and a stretch of beautiful black sparkling sand. He smiled.

The fact that Obi-Wan's shields were relaxed enough for Bruck to view this, was lost (for now) as he simply allowed himself to observe the other discreetly, taking in small details of Obi-Wan's appearance. The ridiculously long lashes, the dark freckle placed high on one cheekbone, the adorable cleft chin . . .

_Son of a Sith!_ He admonished himself, wondering not for the first time, just where in the hells his mentor and Master Jinn were.

"Obi-Wan . . ." Bruck started, feeling the need to just say what he'd been wanting to say and be done with it. "I've wanted to tell you for some time now," He paused, hating how awkward his words sounded, but determinedly continued. "That I . . . I'm very sorry for your loss."

Sparkling jade and sapphire eyes flew to his, wide and searching – looking for any sign of spite or insincerity. Bruck held the vulnerable gaze steadily, sincere in his sympathy.

Obi-Wan looked away and swallowed. It was obvious that Bruck's words had caught him completely off guard.

"Tha…" A barely noticeable catch in his voice. "Thank you."

Fortunately there would be no more time for awkward silences. Bruck looked upwards as he heard the muffled sound of voices drawing near, one deep and persistent, the other low and reassuring.

_Brace yourself padawan._

Bruck had just enough time to warn Obi-Wan of the impending movement, yet the caution turned out to be completely unnecessary.

The considerable strength of both masters wrapped securely around the compartment as the lift was urged smoothly, albeit reluctantly to the next level.

The chirping of the maintenance droid was heard seconds before the doors finally parted and the all-consuming presence of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn flooded the small space. Bruck blinked wordlessly in awe as the man went to his knees beside his padawan.

Dressed only in a light pair of sleep pants, his cloak open and pooling around him, hair free and loose about his shoulders, the man was positively commanding – in his pajamas for forcesakes!

The master assessed his apprentice in a matter of seconds and slid his arms beneath his charge. Rising, Bruck came to his feet as well, standing opposite the master, Obi-Wan cradled between them.

"S . . . sorry." Obi-Wan mumbled without opening his eyes, secure in the arms of his master. "Just wanted to sleep in my own bed."

Master Jinn pressed a quick but firm kiss to the youth's temple before speaking. "Hush."

In the midst of turning, the intense gaze of the Jedi master settled on Bruck. In one brief look he offered acknowledgment and gratitude for whatever assistance Bruck may have rendered. Then just as quickly, he was gone – carrying his burden back towards the direction of the Healer's Ward, cloak and hair streaming behind him.

Master A'Chute wrapped her arm around Bruck's shoulders as he stepped off the lift, both watching the retreating form of Master Jinn. And behind them the maintenance droid once again locked the lift for repairs.

**XIXI**

By the end of the next day, Bruck was dragging through his classes. His master had given him the option of attending afternoon classes only – but he decided he wouldn't be able to sleep in anyways. And he was right. At precisely 6th hour, with only two hours of sleep, his eyes had snapped open – ready for the day.

As the day progressed and no mention was made of his rather unusual evening, Bruck gradually came to understand that the other students were unaware of the events that had transpired. Of course since Obi-Wan had been restricted to the infirmary previously, there had been no need for anyone to worry at his absence.

When the final class, at long last, came to an end he trudged out into the corridor with the other students. Garen and Reeft were slightly ahead of him and he couldn't help but overhear parts of their conversation.

"Do you want to eat first?" Reeft asked.

Garen paused and shook his head. "No, too crowded. Everyone's headed to the refectory."

"We could get Obi some of that mariburi cream he likes so much." Reeft replied.

Garen looked indecisive for a moment and then added, "What if he's sleeping?"

The two friends moved on out of earshot and towards the lower lifts that would take them to the infirmary. Tired, but hungry, Bruck followed the throng of padawans to the cafeteria and ate his meal alone.

Throughout the course of the day he'd debated on visiting the Healer's Ward to see how Obi-Wan was doing, but felt frustratingly uncertain about it. More so now – as he really did not want to run into Reeft or Garen.

Recognizing the small pang he felt as jealousy, he sighed. For as long as he could remember, Obi-Wan, Garen, Reeft and Bant had been inseparable – each the appointed protector of the other. Many times over the years he'd suffered the wrath of one, if not all of them when he'd purposefully targeted one of the small group of friends.

Snorting to himself as he rose from the table, he was thankful that Bant was currently not in Temple. She was the worst of the four. While the others would just hit him and get it over with, the mon cal would plan her revenge for weeks – catching him when he least expected it. And all too often it involved some type of public humiliation on his part. The girl could hold a grudge, that's for sure. Why he'd swear she had a running mental tally of every offense he'd committed since their days in the crèche, things he didn't even remember – and she'd vowed, more than once to someday make him pay for it. With a small shudder, he once again thanked the Force for small favors.

In truth, he'd been resentful of the relationship between the friends for a very long time. Perhaps that is why he'd chosen to strike out at the group so often. They always seemed so comfortable around each other, and knew each other so well, and were so damn protective of each other. They were a small family of sorts – and he envied that.

The only friend he had was Aalt and over the course of the last couple of years even they had grown apart. It wasn't all that uncommon really. Only the best of friends take the necessary steps to remain bonded and keep in touch through such extended periods of separation. Strangely, it was that thought that spurred him into action and firmed his decision.

Entering the ward, he spoke to the healer's apprentice on duty and was given directions to Obi-Wan's room. Rounding a final corner, he hesitated. Reeft and Garen stood outside Obi-Wan's room speaking quietly with Master Jinn. Qui-Gon noticed his approach and while his expression remained inscrutable, Bruck thought he saw a flash of mild surprise in cobalt eyes.

Qui-Gon gave a gentle nod, urging Bruck to continue on to Obi-Wan's room. At this, Garen and Reeft both became aware of his presence as well. Bruck could tell by the look on their faces that they now knew what had happened. Garen's intense gaze met his as he passed, dropping momentarily to take in the small dish of cream that chilled his hands. He couldn't be sure, as such a myriad of emotions flitted across the surprised features, but there had been a flicker of something within that regard that he'd never before seen directed at him from this particular padawan. It was subtle, and cautious at best, but it was there.

Respect.

Leaving the trio behind, Bruck slowed minutely. He'd been told upon his arrival that Obi-Wan had indeed undergone emergency surgery, had been returned to the bacta for a short time and was now resting comfortably.

Now that he was here, Bruck had no idea what he was going to say. He and Obi-Wan had never been friends. As far as he knew they'd never wanted to be friends. Was that what he wanted now? He couldn't say so with any certainty at this very moment. However, he was sure of one thing. He no longer wanted to be enemies. Where things went from there, he would leave to the will of the Force.

End


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a Halloween viggie that's not really scary but does have some Earth history of the origins for the holiday thrown in

**The Darkness of Old**

A slight echo of restlessness resonated within the bond. Glancing at Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye, Xanatos smiled to himself as his new padawan quite noticeably fought the urge to fidget.

_It wont be much longer now, padawan._

Meeting his gaze, Obi-Wan's relief was evident, as was his embarrassment at being read so easily.

_Six hours is a long time. You've done well._

The apprentice perked at his master's compliment and Xanatos gave him a quick wink of encouragement before returning his attention to the final details of the treaty signing between the M'ilali and the Senti.

The treaty itself was a mere formality, as the two tribes had lived in mutual peaceful existence for well over two centuries. Yet with their induction into the Republic the two had decided to reclaim their ancestry and unite as one tribe, putting behind them the unrest that had once divided their people.

The leaders of each tribe, Endar Llumani of the M'ilali and Toci Utta of the Senti, each gave their electronic signatures – to both the local treaty and to the contract that would mark their official entry into the Republic.

The soft-spoken Endar of the M'ilali was the first to address their new and re-united populace.

"From this day forward, we reclaim our ancestry and join together as one. No longer will we be divided as M'ilali or Senti. Today, Calarsus joins the Galactic Republic as the united tribe of Mila-Senti."

Amidst the applause following the proclamation and the inevitable speeches from each leader, Xanatos weaved his way back through the small crowd of locals that had gathered, to his padawan – leaving the formalities of the joining to the senate aids.

Obi-Wan stood as he approached, stifling a yawn as he did so. Resisting an urge to smile, the emerging teacher in him recognized a clear opportunity as he knelt before the youth.

"You did very well. The details took much longer to finalize than expected." Xanatos repeated his earlier words.

"Six hours?!" Obi-Wan was clearly incredulous and more than just a little antsy after having to remain still and quiet for so long. Laughter tugged at the master's lips in response to the very genuine surprise in the young voice.

"Much of what we do, padawan, is as you've witnessed today. Not all victories come at the edge of a saber or in the fiery heat of battle." Though he knew very well that most new padawans anticipated just that.

There was noticeable disappointment in the changeable eyes that held his. _Excitement and adventure a Jedi craves not._ He heard Master Yoda's words in his head as clearly as if he'd spoken them only yesterday. _Little boys on the other hand_ . . .This time he didn't bother to hide his smile as he stood, his hand falling to Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Master Chiyari," Endar Llumani sought him out and greeted the knight as he approached, his gaze slipping to Obi-Wan, acknowledging his presence as well. "I thank you for bearing witness to this most momentous occasion, and do hope that you and your apprentice will stay for our harvest celebration."

With their transport not due to arrive until the following morning, there was absolutely no reason to refuse. "We would be honored." Xanatos replied sincerely.

"Excellent." Endar continued. "We have much to celebrate this eve of Taimhein. For the first time in centuries our people will enter the New Year united as one tribe."

Having read some of the history of the celebration in his mission briefing, Xanatos was familiar with the origins of Taimhein, or Mila-Senti New Year as it was otherwise known and he knew that it was an annual event that marked the end of the season of the Sun. It was a week long festival following the end of the autumn harvest – yet this eve was special to the people of Calarsus. Not only did it mark the start of a new year - it was a night when their ancestors believed that the laws of space and time could be suspended and that the dead could once again intermingle with the land of the living. Such thoughts had long since turned to folklore, yet many of the strange customs surrounding the age-old superstitions were still in existence today, though many of them only faintly resembled their ancient origins.

"You must feel free to participate as well," Endar suddenly paused, thoughtful. "That is, if you are allowed to do so." Obviously the man was not quite sure of the parameters of such things when it came to the ways of the Jedi.

"We would be pleased to attend your celebration, but would prefer to remain as observers only." Xanatos said diplomatically. While it was entirely permissible for them to participate if he chose to, for reasons he could not yet define, he felt the need to decline Llumani's invitation.

"Ah, very well then." Endar said genuinely, not the least bit offended and moving on to another topic.

When the child next to him shifted beneath his hand, Xanatos was once again reminded of the restlessness of youth.

"Obi-Wan," Turning to the boy as he spoke, "why don't you get some fresh air and stretch your legs. I'll meet you outside in a moment."

The two adults shared knowing smiles as the padawan nodded dutifully and quickly did as he was told.

_Stay close._ Xanatos spoke into the bond, watching as the boy left.

A cool, crisp evening breeze caressed his heated skin as she stepped from the building. Obi-Wan took a deep refreshing breath, feeling the grogginess of the last few hours begin to dissipate. A faint hint of wood smoke filled the air as hearths in the homes all around him were lit to ward of the mild chill that came with autumn and the end of the harvest season.

The sun had barely set on the horizon, splashing a myriad of hues from indigo to scarlet across the western sky, each color fading gradually and softly into the next. Twin moons hung low in the darkest part of the sky, both pale and full, one a mere half size of the other. Obi-Wan, so accustomed to the cluttered skyline of Coruscant was held motionless, frozen in awe of nature's spectacular beauty. It was a few long moments before the padawan registered the bustle of activity that was beginning to take place around him.

Over the course of the week many of the homes and businesses had already been decorated in honor of the festival. Dried maize stalks and berries adorned thresholds and shop windows. The large bright gourds placed all throughout the common square had been hollowed out and were now lit with a soft yellow glow – each with its own unique carving in honor of Taimhein. A brisk wind rustled the fallen leaves, sending them tumbling through the streets. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as the cool air washed over him, feeling suddenly invigorated.

Through the Force he could sense nothing but satisfaction and genuine pleasure from those around him. The hard work of the harvest now behind them, the people of Calarsus were anxious to celebrate not only Taimhein, but also their admission into the Republic. Yet as the last sliver of daylight disappeared, Obi-Wan felt a small shiver of unease ripple through him – a chill that had nothing to do with the cool evening air.

"Hey, kid." Jolted from his musing, a young boy about his age passed him on the walkway looking him up and down. "Nice costume."

He looked down at his uniform and back up but the boy had already moved on with his friends, each of them carrying makeshift rucksacks. Peripherally he'd been aware of the increasing crowd, but it wasn't until then that Obi-Wan really took notice of the people milling about. He was surprised to find them adorned in costumes and attire that had not previously been part of the week long festival. Curious, he watched them.

"Trick or Treat." Obi-Wan looked across the way as he heard a young, excited voice.

"Oh, why just look at you!" He heard the woman say as she opened her door holding a large weaved basket, quickly surveying the contents. "What an adorable dragmul pup!" When the little one growled, then pouted the lady quickly adjusted her assessment and tone of voice. "Oh, ah, what I meant to say is, what a ferocious looking dragmul you are! Why I've not seen a scarier beast all evening." This seemed to go a long way in mollifying the child and the pout quickly disappeared.

The padawan watched as the woman dropped something into the child's bag, looked into the upturned face one more time, then reached for something else to drop in. As the child turned and headed back for the parents that waited near the curb, the lady at the door waved, and the child's mother issued a polite reminder, "Evin, dear. . ."

Evin stopped mid stride, seemingly horrified that he'd forgotten to say, "Thank you!" The adults all smiled as he quickly continued on to the next home, turning only once to make sure his parents were following.

Obi-Wan soon lost sight of Evin in the growing crowd. Through the Force he felt Xanatos approach, coming to stand directly behind him. They continued to watch the peculiar custom in silence for some time, the master casting an occasional inquisitive glance down at his charge. The padawan watched the goings on with an almost intense concentration as he observed the older children moving in packs together, the smaller ones holding their parents hands or running ahead - leaving the adults to scurry after them. Everyone seemed very happy and looked to be having fun, yet the longer the padawan watched and the darker the evening sky grew – the more unsettled he became.

Xanatos felt the tension in the youth and let his hands settle on slim shoulders. At only ten cycles of age, Obi-Wan had limited experience outside of the Temple classrooms on the various practices and customs of other cultures. It was for that very reason Xanatos had petitioned the Council for permission to allow Obi-Wan to accompany him on this mission.

The standard age for a padawan to accompany his master on any mission was usually twelve to thirteen cycles, as that is the age by which they must be chosen. Yet this was an unusual pairing and the two had already been bonded as master and apprentice for almost a full years cycle. When Xanatos had read the mission briefing, he immediately had thoughts of Obi-Wan joining him. There was small to no risk involved in any type violence breaking out and it also coincided with this rather unusual tradition of Taimhein. It had the potential to be a valuable learning experience for his student. Of course he knew at Obi-Wan's young age that most of the details of the treaty and joining of Calarsus to the Republic would be lost on the youth, and they were – yet the exposure to this new civilization and its unique customs would be well beyond that of what any holo book could teach him.

"It is said that," Xanatos explained some of the history of the holiday to his padawan, "on this day in ancient times, the Lord of Death, or as he came to be known, Taimhein – would gather the souls of the dead from over the course of the previous year to determine their fate for the afterlife. Those who led lives pleasing to him would be allowed to return to this plane for a few precious hours to visit with their families. Their ultimate fate would be reincarnation in human form."

"What of those found displeasing?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Those condemned by Taimhein would be forced to enter the bodies of animals." Xanatos paused as Obi-Wan turned and looked up at him, serious doubt at such a statement was clearly evident.

"Naturally," Xanatos continued patiently, "some of the condemned souls were . . . resistant to their fate and they would roam the countryside in search of tribesman to torment and possess. They would play tricks on the people and try to frighten them."

"As you may well imagine, the living did not want to be possessed, so they would build huge bonfires and don grotesque masks and costumes – often consisting of animal heads and skins and they would dance around the fire long into the night in an attempt to scare away any evil spirits."

"And the treats?" Obi-Wan asked and Xanatos was impressed, both by the boys level of acceptance of the history of the holiday and by the very appropriate and pointed question.

"While the fires and costumes were meant to scare away the unwanted spirits, the 'good' spirits that Taimhein had released were to be welcomed and made to feel at home. Fruits, nuts, berries and other 'treats' were put out to honor them."

A small disturbance within the crowd garnered their attention and the master paused as two young boys, approximately six and seven cycles of age, charged into the middle of the street and proceeded to engage in a very quick, very enthusiastic mock lightsaber duel. They wore brown robes and carried plasfilm swords that glowed brightly against the black backdrop of the night sky. One child even sported a braid clipped to a band in his hair. They disappeared almost as quickly as they'd arrived, turning and dashing off down the street one after the other.

This time it was wide and puzzled eyes that looked up to meet those of his master and Xanatos was once again struck by the natural innocence that his padawan so easily conveyed. A tenderness that he was still not quite comfortable with surged within him and he placed a guiding hand on the youth's shoulders as he led them back toward their rooms.

"The eventual introduction and advancement of technology, along with time itself, did away with many of the superstitions surrounding the old beliefs. What we see tonight is merely a symbolism of lost and ancient practices."

Reaching their destination, both paused and watched the ebb and flow of the crowd as Xanatos spoke again. "This is all that remains of what was once a very dark and sacred period in history for these people."

There was much more to the events surrounding the origins of Taimhein he could go into, but as he continued to sense the mounting unease in the youth, he thought better of continuing and opted for changing the subject.

"Are you hungry?" Xanatos asked, aware that it had been quite some time since they'd last eaten. He was famished. The master was a trifle concerned when Obi-Wan nodded in the affirmative, but remained very distracted by the activity around him. It was a surprising relief to both of them when the door to their lodgings closed behind them and they were once again alone.

A few hours later, Xanatos sat opposite his padawan studying the smooth, peaceful face of deep meditation. The first to surface, he waited patiently for the boy to finish. His eyes wandered about the room as he did so, falling upon Obi-Wan's plate of untouched food. Most unusual. While the child appeared thin as a waif, the master had often been astounded at just how much food his padawan could put away. Rare were the times when a meal was refused.

As the time stretched to nearly an hour, he began to get the distinct impression that Obi-Wan was reluctant to emerge from his commune with the Force. Concerned, he probed the bond gently and found the boy slowly surfacing.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes and blinked into the brightness, the master lowered the lights with a touch of the Force and met the gaze of his young charge. Almost immediately, a small crease returned to rest between gold and ginger brows.

"Something troubles you." Xanatos stated, not bothering to phrase it as a question. His expectation of a response was obvious.

"Yes." Obi-Wan seemed relieved to say it aloud.

"What is it?" Xanatos asked, remembering the child's earlier unease.

"I . . ." Obi-Wan paused, searching for the appropriate thing to say, then looked away as he finished, " I don't know."

While the response certainly surprised the master it was the shame the child felt at the admission that bothered him.

"Obi-Wan, look at me," he said gently and waited for the young one's gaze to meet his. "Close your eyes."

When the child did so, he continued. "Now, tell me what you feel."

Taking his time to really think about the question, the padawan was silent for long moments.

"Cold. I feel cold and . . ."

When the padawan hesitated the master prompted him. "Cold and . . ."

"Frightened." Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and he searched his master's face as he continued. "I can't explain why."

The child paused thoughtfully and Xanatos remained silent, giving him the time he needed.

"It feels as if something is crawling under my skin and all around me – but I can't see it." The gaze turned helpless and Obi-Wan looked to his master hoping that he would be able to explain the feeling of unease.

Xanatos stretched out with his own senses, but felt nothing untoward. Obi-Wan waited patiently for a response, the uncertainty in his eyes clearly visible. It would not due at all to discount the boy's feelings, for many reasons. In their short time together, Obi-Wan had shown a distinct predisposition for prescience. However, it was quite obvious he didn't completely understand or yet trust this very special gift. Something that would come only with time.

"Then we must be vigilant," Xanatos said, noting that the tension in the youth eased ever so slightly at being taken seriously, "and listen closely to the call of the Force."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement but remained very grave. It was clear to the master that something had caused his young charge to become upset, and while he sensed nothing immediate, it was enough to put him on alert as well.

Xanatos glanced at the chrono and noting the lateness of the hour, urged the boy to his feet. They had been invited to witness a very rare and hallowed ceremony that had not been celebrated in many years. Donning their cloaks, master and apprentice set out to walk the short distance to a clearing just outside of town as the midnight hour approached.

The streets were quiet now; all the excited children of earlier had been home for hours and were safely tucked within the warmth of their beds. The golden glow of the carved gourds lit their way until the last of the homes fell away into the countryside.

Smoke was visible as they approached and the crackle of fire could be heard long before the huge bonfire came into view. Pausing at the edge of the field, the Jedi maintained a discreet distance as observers only.

Only the high priests of each tribe would participate in the purely ceremonial, sacrificial bonfire in honor of their ancestors. The M'ilali were cloaked from head to toe in voluminous robes that were as black as the night sky and the Senti priests wore matching robes in blood red. To celebrate their recent joining the priests from each tribe alternated as they joined the procession to encircle their sacred fire.

As low and rhythmic tribal music filled the otherwise still night air, Obi-Wan moved to stand next to his master, leaving his customary padawan position for a better view. When the priests began to chant in the ancient tongue of their forefathers, he looked to Xanatos curiously, hoping that an explanation of this strange ritual would be forthcoming. The disquiet he'd never really managed to shake had returned and grew steadily stronger with each passing minute. And while comfort was found in the bond he shared with his master, the child in him sought physical reassurance as well.

Xanatos was slightly startled when the small hand slipped into his and pale, pinched features turned to him questioningly. It was then that he too felt . . . something – a cold and heavy presence within the Force. Stilling instantly, he reached outward with his senses, closing his eyes as he did so.

After several long minutes he relaxed and turned a guilty and apologetic eye to his padawan. Obi-Wan's earlier unease suddenly took on new meaning and Xanatos could not help but feel every bit of his inexperience as a new master.

Historic accounts regarding the purpose behind these sacred fires varied drastically according to the mission files he'd been provided. Some claimed there was nothing more to them than a commemorative festival to honor Taimhein -quite innocent and innocuous. But there were other tales as well. Ones that were not so freely shared . . . and whispered of human sacrifices.

Taimhein was once believed to be a night of great divination. Some of the tribal priests, primarily the Senti, believed that by observing human beings in the throes of death within the sacred fires – they could make predictions for the New Year. Their potential for foresight was thought to be the strongest on this night.

The Senti were convinced that this method of sacrifice held true knowledge of future events and were rumored to have held large group sacrifices consisting mainly of criminals, prisoners and animals. However, if a priest determined that the god, Taimhein, was not yet satisfied – the blood of innocent victims would also be spilled.

Historians believe that it was these very practices that caused the eventual split between the two tribes. While the Senti continued to focus heavily on divination and sorcery, the M'ilali were opposed to human sacrifice in any form. For them, Taimhein became a day of prayer for those lost or evil souls that had been relegated to the body of animals. It was their hope that prayers and gifts would ease the suffering of the dead and earn them favor with Taimhein.

The shadow Xanatos sensed lent credence to the rumors of sacrifice and torment, an echo of lost and tortured souls crying out for mercy and release from their fiery grave. It was old and timeless, a remembered darkness from a period in history that no longer existed for these people. Still – it lingered, its presence strongest now in the deepest hours of the Taimhein.

Tied to a time of death and uncertainty, of sacrifices and superstitions – it lingered at the fringes of this yearly celebration with no real power -clinging to a time that was lost and forever beyond its grasp, yet finding simple pleasure in the seemingly innocent symbolism that would forever bind Calarsus to the ancient, if primitive, rituals of its ancestors.

Belatedly, Xanatos realized that he had sensed the subtle, cloying and ultimately harmless presence long before now - and had subconsciously shielded himself from it. To do so was as natural and automatic a response as it was to breathe. But it had not always been so. Another had taught it to him when he was a young padawan.

Reflexively, his mind returned to Obi-Wan's earlier comment. It feels as if something is crawling under my skin and all around me – but I can't see it. It was a very accurate analogy actually. One so young and relatively sheltered as Obi-Wan, as most Jedi children tend to be regardless of the Temple's efforts to age them before their time, would have relatively little experience with darkness of any kind.

_I feel cold . . . and frightened._ Berating himself silently for such a simple and obvious oversight, Xanatos pushed his guilt aside to deal with later. For now it was only a matter of a few simple lessons in shielding to put his padawan at ease.

"Obi-Wan." He started, as he went to one knee. The hand he held refused to warm, and the boy did not respond to his call, seemingly lost within the dancing flames. The soft golden glow from the distant fire lit the young face and emphasized random flecks of emerald. Gazing at his charge, Xanatos couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever been so young, so innocent as the boy before him. Had his master ever looked upon him with the same mixture of love, devotion and fierce protection that currently stirred within him?

_His only anchor was the warm hand wrapped loosely around his. Instinctively he reached for the bond to his master, but found it suddenly distant and silent, a strange static filling his ears. He remained aware of where he was and what he was doing - could clearly hear the ceremony, the fire, and his master's voice, even the peep of the insects in the field all around him. He could feel that his feet were firmly planted on solid ground - but in his mind's eye, the world around him began to shift, as if he were drifting between this reality and another. He felt light and insubstantial, unable to move or to respond, lost within the swirling images before him._

"Padawan . . ."

Xanatos felt the surge from within the Force at the same time the bond went oddly silent. He watched as his padawan cocked his head slightly to the side, as if listening to a voice that only he could hear. The child's unfocused gaze held a measure of calmness that belied the faint tremor in the hand that he held. Understanding what was happening, Xanatos firmed his grip on the child's hand and gently ran his thumb along the chilled skin in an effort to reassure.

_He didn't understand what he was seeing, what he was feeling. People and places he felt he should, or would know – but as yet did not. A sense of chaos and uncertainty, peace and serenity, all jumbled and tossed within a whirlwind of images that his young mind just could not yet comprehend. So many variables, countless paths and possibilities yet to be explored. As an observer the images were confusing and fleeting, dissipating quickly as each one passed. Yet the emotions that came with them hit him hard and he deeply felt each one as they tore through him. Love, loss, pain . . . betrayal. But above all, a sense of . . . inevitability. It saddened him beyond anything that his tender age could possibly articulate._

Xanatos watched the young face carefully for any sign of distress, helpless to do anything but remain patient and supportive. He felt his concern mount and swallowed painfully as changeable eyes began to water and a single large tear traced a silvery moonlit path over a smooth, rounded cheekbone. In an emotional agony of a different sort, the master could only sigh. And wait.

_The red and black robes of the Mila-Senti priests swirled before him again, morphing and changing into a strange and monstrous mockery – a face with eyes that glowed yellow and orange, and a piercing gaze that penetrated the most secret and private places of his soul. Yet unlike the beings in the previous images, this creature held his gaze challengingly - hate and malice unmistakable in the fire rimmed eyes. Obi-Wan had the sudden and unwelcome realization that he was no longer observing but sharing this strange place with another. The creature before him smiled cruelly in confirmation. His breath caught and held in his throat._

"Padawan!" Xanatos spoke firmly and urgently as the child gasped, holding his breath. When there was still no response he grasped the youth by the shoulders and shook him none too gently in his worry. Relieved when Obi-Wan took a deep breath, the master eased his grip as confused blue green eyes came into focus and searched his face wildly.

"What is it?" Xanatos asked, sensing that whatever had revealed itself to the child had nothing to do with this place or these people.

"I . . ." Obi-Wan looked around, his uncertainty evident. His lip trembled and another tear broke free, the boy at a loss to explain what he'd seen, but still caught within the grip of the very real emotions he'd experienced.

Looking small and uncertain, cold and extremely vulnerable the child stood there floundering, unable to express much of anything at all. Large wounded eyes searched the master's face, as if expecting him to be able to make sense of it all.

Deeply affected by the child's state, the master pulled the boy into the circle of his arms, his hand going to the back of Obi-Wan's head.

He let his presence soothe the tumultuous tide of emotions, whispering soft words of reassurance as the boy continued to calm, easing his almost desperate grip on the master's cloak.

"Obi-Wan," While the child was clearly upset, it was very important to glean as much information as possible from the vision. "I need to you concentrate, hold on to as many images as you can."

Reluctance was quickly overridden at the softly spoken command and the padawan, safe within the reassuring embrace of his master, did as he was told – grasping for details that were all too willing to fade into his subconscious.

When finally the youth's head came to rest heavily on his shoulder, Xanatos debated on picking the child up and carrying him back to town. Exhausted as he was, both physically and emotionally, Obi-Wan stiffened as the thought transferred through the training bond. Straightening, he moved out of the embrace and made clear his intention to walk the short distance back to town.

Hiding a small smile of amusement Xanatos placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder when the youth would have fallen into step behind him. Thoughts of reaching his padawan's hand were aborted as he was quickly reminded of the subtle but unmistakable show of adolescent pride just seconds before. Instead, he let his hand fall away and continued walking in silence.

Less than a moment later, a small hand slipped into his as they left the edge of the clearing. Undeniably warmed by the gesture, Xanatos made no other acknowledgment of it. It wouldn't be too much longer, he knew, that such simple contact as this would also be frowned upon as the youth matured.

The twin moons, how high in the sky, cast a pale incandescent light throughout the otherwise dark lodgings that had been provided for them. Obi-Wan was already trying to climb into his bed as Xanatos worked to extricate him from his robe in the process. Crawling in the general direction of the pillow, the youth collapsed face down with the utter surrender that only a child could manage. He was asleep before his master deposited his cloak on the peg next to the door.

Settling on the edge of the bed, Xanatos debated leaving his apprentice as is, but he knew the boy would not appreciate his wrinkled attire come morning. Carefully removing each boot he set them within easy reach and set about stripping Obi-Wan down to his under tunics. Pulling a soft throw from his own bed he draped it over the deeply slumbering form.

Xanatos stood gazing down at the boy for a long moment before he moved to the nearby window seat. In the distance the orange glow of the bonfire was barely visible over the treetops, but the master's eyes were turned inward, he had already forgotten about the ceremony that continued in the distance. Lost in thought, he guiltily contemplated all that had happened in the last few hours – a sinking, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was times like this, deep in the night and all alone that he truly contemplated his worthiness as a master.

He heard Obi-Wan sigh softly in his sleep and turned to study the young, tear streaked face. Looking away he wondered, as he often did, if this boy didn't deserve better. As a master he would never measure up to the standard in which he strove. He would never be. . . Qui-Gon.

But he would do his best.

For Obi-Wan, he would always do his best. Yet the question that remained in the back of his mind was always the same.

Would it be enough?

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a hodge-podge of history here as far as the origins of Halloween go. Most is taken from a fascinating little booklet I picked up. Taimhein is of course a substitution for Samhain and the M'ilali and the Senti are purely fictional – but every thing else is basically pulled from the various cultures and folklores that contribute to our modern day holiday.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some mature themes and imagery in this chapter. Mild and tastefully done in my opinion, but this viggie includes Obi-Wan's first sexual experience.

From his vantage point on the terrace, Qui-Gon casually tracked Obi-Wan's progress through the large sun-drenched garden below. The young man was seemingly absorbed in the lush, multi-colored flora that sprawled its way across a well-sculpted and beautifully crafted landscape all the way to the far northern reaches of the palace grounds. The vivid spectrum of colors and dark leafy greenery embodied the finest, rarest and most beautiful plant life that Elles-Maron had to offer. To Qui-Gon, the Living Force was a near tangible presence.

The master watched as his new apprentice occasionally paused to gently stroke a petal or to inhale the fragrance of a particularly unique blossom. Undeniably sensitive to the currents of the Living Force, Qui-Gon easily sensed the disruption to its flow as it swirled in mild turbulence around the young padawan in its midst. A month's cycle since Xanatos had passed and Obi-Wan had yet to open himself to the healing that it so desperately wanted to offer.

With Qui-Gon's help and many shared hours of meditation, Obi-Wan had reluctantly come to accept that his master's death had indeed been the will of the Force. Yet what the mind could rationalize in cold finality - if it had to - the heart often could not. Obi-Wan continued to function day to day, attending to his studies and training and occasionally gracing him with a hard won smile. But through it all there was a pervasive sadness and vulnerability that the boy could not escape, viewing the world through a veil of grief that would likely only dissipate with time.

It was Qui-Gon's hope that the return to active duty would help facilitate the healing process and strengthen the newfound bond between them. The Council was in agreement and Elles-Maron was the first assignment in a string of low maintenance missions designed to transition the grieving padawan back to the more aggressive negotiations that he had become accustomed to.

The small, mid-rim, forest planet was one of only a handful of worlds within the Republic that continued to operate under monarchy rule. Jedi presence for this particular occasion was more tradition than protocol, their only role being a formal appearance at King Dascen's coronation the evening before. The charismatic royal had been King in all but title for nearly two annual cycles. His father and predecessor, Lord Diegan, had fought a long and debilitating illness that had finally claimed his life, less than a fortnight ago. To those who knew the scope of the crippling disease that plagued him, death was a mercy that had been too long in coming. The final years of his reign had been marred by sadness for a once vital yet still beloved man. Yet it had also been a time in which Prince Dascen had proven himself a strong and capable successor to the throne. Endearing himself to the people long before his official crowning, the heir had already won the hearts of those he now served.

It was in their honor that last night's open coronation had been held. Thousands of citizens in every social class of Elles-Maron had attended a ceremony that was traditionally reserved for only the highest-ranking members of society. Qui-Gon had been impressed by both the size of the audience and by the odd mixture of peasants and nobility that packed the grand hall in honor of their new king. It was meant to be a solemn occasion, but the people were anxious for a reason to celebrate. And so the coronation was only the prelude to a grand feast and gala in Dascen's honor that was set to begin at dusk this day. It was expected to be an impressive event that would last long into the night.

Having joined Dascen and his only daughter for breakfast to finalize the details of the upcoming celebration, it did not escape Qui-Gon's notice that young Lady Elarra was also keeping a close eye on Obi-Wan's meandering progress through the garden below. Her overt observation was much less subtle than his and a quick glance at Dascen showed an indulgent and knowing smile that was quickly hidden around a mouthful of fresh akoori fruit topped with clotted cream.

In the three days since their arrival, Elarra had taken an obvious interest in Obi-Wan. What the master had at first assumed to be infatuation, and likely had started out so, had since morphed into something else entirely. While he was uncertain and curious as to the nature of her preoccupation with his padawan, the Force assured him that her motives were pure and that she was in no way a threat to Obi-Wan's slowly healing emotional state. In fact, his instincts were telling him that she would be quite the opposite. Somehow, some way this young woman would be instrumental in helping his apprentice move beyond the overwhelming grief that, while often well hidden, continued to plague the young man.

And while Qui-Gon's trust in the Force was implicit, there were times, such as now, when he wished that it was not so vague - if for no other reason than to satisfy his overwhelming curiosity. Elarra herself offered no clues. Not once had she sought his advice or counsel in any manner regarding Obi-Wan, despite the fact that various circumstances had presented her the opportunity to do so in the handful of private discussions they'd shared. Sighing to himself, he released his feelings into the Force. He had done and continued to do all that he could for his padawan. Perhaps the Force was providing, through this young princess, a step in the healing process that he himself could not. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a small smile emerged. Charming, straightforward and diplomatic in her own right, Qui-Gon could easily see a match in temperament that would suit Obi-Wan's just fine. The young lady had the regal bearing that would one day see her ascending the throne with the same heart and inner sense of compassion that her father possessed. Elarra's beautiful and softly muted violet eyes finally left Obi-Wan to meet his, smiling as if she had heard his final thought and approved.

"Tell me, daughter," King Dascen said as he finished his berries. "Who is the lucky young man you have chosen for your escort this evening?"

Loving but exasperated eyes turned to the king. "You know very well I have yet to make that decision, Father."

"Oh, come now. Young Fraedryth will be absolutely heartbroken if you refuse him yet again."

When Elarra remained silent, the king sighed theatrically and continued. "Joren?" He asked hopefully and when his daughter maintained her silence yet again, he offered his final and most favorable choice. "Rorri?"

"And what of you, Father?" Elarra deflected. "Mistress Novari has all but thrown dignity to the wind and asked you herself."

When Dascen looked decidedly unhappy that he'd broached the subject, Elarra smiled and touched his hand. "Forgive me, Father. I just don't see why an escort is necessary at all." When it looked as if the king would interject she quickly continued. "However, since you wish it so, there is really only one person that I would choose."

Both Qui-Gon and the king looked at her curiously, and the master could not stop himself from tensing slightly. He was quite sure he knew who her choice was, and he wasn't at all sure that Obi-Wan was ready for such an invitation.

"Really?" Dascen was openly pleased, having come to the same conclusion Qui-Gon had. "And who would that be?" Elarra, in no small feat, managed to surprise both of them with her response. She rose, still holding her father's hand and came to his side.

"It would give me no greater pleasure, Father, than to be at your side, and you at mine. Will you do me the honor of being my escort this evening?"

Dascen blinked in mild shock, but recovered quickly. Smiling wryly at his offspring he took her other hand in his. "The honor would be mine, daughter." His eyes roamed her face with an inner sadness that was quickly hidden with a loving smile. "You remind me more of your mother each day, Ela. I know she would be as proud of you as I am."

The comment caught the princess off guard and her eyes glistened, but only briefly as she planted a kiss on her father's cheek. "It's a date then."

Instead of returning to her seat, Elarra picked up a plate and began filling it with an assortment of available fruits and pastries. As the volume of food grew, both Dascen and Qui-Gon glanced at each other in askance. Humming quietly to herself with a small smile as she made her selections, the princess offered no explanation as she turned with a flourish and made her exit.

Qui-Gon was quite sure of her intent this time, his eyes already scanning the glade of vegetation below for the telltale glint of Obi-Wan's ginger highlights. When the young man was nowhere to be seen he returned to his breakfast. It had not escaped his notice yet again that Elarra had declined a perfect opportunity to question him as to what Obi-Wan may or may not prefer to eat for breakfast. While he could have felt any number of ways about her lack of deference to him in regards to his padawan, he chose instead to admire her independent spirit and be thankful for whatever assistance she would provide.

A moment later he could see her winding through the garden path below, her stride determined but unhurried. While he had no doubt that Obi-Wan would be cordial, he sensed that his padawan would not be pleased at the intrusion. Elarra had taken every opportunity available to interact with the padawan over the last three days. Obi-Wan had noticeably warmed to some of their discussions, but still managed to look the part of a mynock caught in the headlamps whenever she managed to initially corner him. His eyes would flicker to Qui-Gon in hopes of rescue and the master was chagrined to admit that the first time or two, he had obliged. Until he acknowledged that it was exactly what Obi-Wan needed.

**X**

Elarra found Obi-Wan seated on the rim of the large yellow-stoned fountain. Unaware of her scrutiny, the padawan's features were unguarded - sad eyes lost in memories that occasionally inspired a small ghost of a smile as he trailed his fingers through the cool spring water. She drank in the site of him, knowing that he would sense her presence all too soon. The young princess admitted to herself that it had been his striking, clean cut, golden looks that originally drew her eye to him. Breathtaking, oceanic eyes that shifted from deep blue to the mirror image of a storm tossed sky, suddenly locked on hers. For a brief moment she contemplated what it would be like to lose her self in that gaze, to learn the various nuances of temperament that went with each shade of color. But when his eyes dropped to the plate of food in her hands, reality slapped her coldly in the face and broke her paralysis. Beyond a few stolen moments that would undoubtedly be fun to explore, each had obligations that bound them worlds apart in which they gladly embraced.

"I brought you some breakfast," Elarra said after softly clearing her throat. She joined him at the fountain and placed the food between them.

"Is this all for me?" Obi-Wan asked with raised brows.

"I wasn't sure of your preference, so I brought you a little of everything," the princess said with a pleasant laugh. "Mind if I join you?"

She could tell that he wasn't at all tempted by the food and likely did not want company, but she persisted, her mind set on the course of conversation she wanted to broach. Thankfully, politeness won out and he acquiesced with a small smile and a dip of his chin. She watched as he surveyed her offering. His gaze lingered on the pastries, but ultimately he chose a piece of fruit.

"Come now," she said playfully, as he was about to bite into the pink-fleshed rapuli fruit. "Live a little. Try this."

Elarra chose a puffy small golden flaked pastry and broke it open, revealing the fluffy, whipped chocolate filling inside. "Tarillian chocolate," she whispered in obvious delight. "It's absolutely sinful." She delicately popped the smaller portion in her mouth and made a show of savoring the rich, tasty treat.

"Here," she said, as she all but pressed the other half to his lips. "It would be a breach of hospitality if you were to leave Elles-Maron without sampling our most popular export."

Elarra saw his hand twitch in his lap as if in mind to extract the morsel from her fingers at about the same time she realized how terribly forward she was being. It was impossible to retreat without making the moment potentially more awkward than it had suddenly become. A light, rosy flush heated her face as a subtle knowing glint lit emerald flecked, sapphire depths and the padawan parted his lips in acceptance of her offering. Their gazes held in what seemed to Elarra like an imperceptible slowing of time as she placed the pastry, as impersonally as possible, into his mouth. When his eyes widened in surprised pleasure, the brief moment of what felt like mutual attraction, was broken. He made a sound in the back of his throat that sent shivers down her spine and warmed her skin at the same time. Shaking off undeniable and inappropriate desire, she smiled at his response.

"You like it?" she asked proudly, already knowing the answer.

"Mmmmmmm," Obi-Wan said as he swallowed and reached for another on the tray. "This may very well be the best chocolate I've ever tasted." Unabashedly adding around a mouthful, "and I know chocolate."

Elarra laughed at the unexpected statement, her thoughts lingering on the hidden depths of mischief she -glimpsed. They ate in a silence that was companionable, the princess no longer feeling as if she had intruded on his solitude. It made the transition to her next topic all the more natural.

"Did you know this was my mother's garden?" -she asked, looking around the vast and varied plant life before her eyes returned to Obi-Wan's. When he shook his head and looked mildly interested, she continued, encouraged.

"She designed all of the landscaping and did most of the planting and construction herself." Elarra indicated the fountain they sat on and patted a roughly carved stone. "Some of these were put into place by her own hand." She smiled in memory, letting her fingers trail in the water as she had seen Obi-Wan do earlier. "As a child, I spent many a hot summer day splashing about in this fountain, wanting to be near her as she worked." Silent as the memories of perfumed air and bright gentle laughter suddenly flooded her mind, Obi-Wan waited patiently for her to continue.

"This was her favorite place in the world. Grandfather gave her free reign to cultivate the grounds to her hearts desire. Whenever I needed her, I always knew where to find her." She finished a little sadly but without the heaviness of fresh grief.

"She died when I was twelve," Elarra said to Obi-Wan in way of explanation. Sympathy and understanding flooded the depths of his changeable eyes though he remained silent - for which she was surprisingly grateful.

"It's the little everyday things I miss the most, I think." She continued after a moment. "Her kisses in the morning, the way she would hold my hand as we strolled the garden, our talks in the evening as she combed out my hair and her laugh..." Elarra swallowed, more affected by the memory than she had thought. "She had the most beautiful laugh."

Had she not been looking at the apprentice when she spoke she likely would have missed the glistening in his blue-gray eyes as he turned his head, closing them in an effort to gain control over his emotions. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking, as it was clear that she had struck a chord. Certain now that she was on the right track, she continued.

"As the garden grew, more help was needed to maintain it - but mother still spent the better part of the day on her knees in the soil, doing her part. It was as natural for me to see her wearing a priceless gown as it was to see her face smudged with dirt and her hair tangled by the breeze." These memories brought her joy and she was seized by a sudden impulse to take his hand. "I have a holo in my rooms I would love to show you before you leave." It was a dual image of her mother as she'd just described. Elarra paused, feeling suddenly vulnerable while she awaited his response, his hand warm in hers.

When Obi-Wan smiled she wondered if he could sense her uncertainty. "I'd very much like to see it," he said genuinely and squeezed her hand. When he didn't withdraw, and there was no indication of discomfort to her physical contact she continued.

"I have so many wonderful memories of our time together here." As an after thought she added, "Did you know there is a private glen just beyond the brook?" Obi-Wan looked intrigued, as she'd hoped. "When I was little we used to have picnics and tea party's there. It was our own private place." Elarra smiled as she remembered their special time together there. "We shared it with no one except father. It's always been a magical place for me."

As she continued to talk, Elarra noticed that while Obi-Wan was attentive, he was beginning to grow quiet and still - the sadness returning to his eyes.

"Father and I are both early risers, always have been. Mother liked to sleep in and let the late morning sun rouse her. In dawn's light we would walk through her garden, and even though she slept safe and sound within the palace, we would miss her terribly. I don't know how, but on some level I think we knew that our time with her was growing short. We could feel her presence in the garden she had put so much of herself into it that it was impossible not to, but it was only a pale imitation that made us long to be at her side."

She didn't feel the need to ask if Obi-Wan understood or to explain why she had felt the way she did. She could see in his eyes that he knew.

"We began a tradition of waking her each morning with a fresh vase of flowers from her garden and treating her to breakfast in bed." Elarra's voice had grown quiet as well. "She died four months later." A small pause. "Father and I continue to bring her flowers each morning...only now we place them at her graveside."

It wasn't until she'd finished speaking that she realized that they had both tightened their hold on the hands they held. Elarra remained silent as she let her memories slip away - praying that Obi-Wan would take the opportunity that she had offered. When her heartbeat, his breathing, the gentle trickle of water and the slow, lazy buzz of insects was all that greeted her for a long agonizing moment, she began to wonder if he would speak at all. And then finally, after a few false starts, he did.

"My master …" Though he stumbled on the final word, Obi-Wan's voice was flat, emotionless . "He sacrificed himself to save me." Elarra knew from experience that it was a coping mechanism used to distance oneself from what was being said. Then for her benefit he added, "Qui-Gon and I had formed an unexpected bond. It was my master's final wish that his former mentor complete my training." She waited patiently through a long thoughtful silence.

"I think what I miss the most, at least today, is ..." His hand flexed within hers and his halting words paused, uncertain if he really wanted to continue. Elarra held her breath as he looked away.

"Due to the bond we shared it was easy for him to tell – and hard for me to hide – when I was frightened or uncertain. Especially when I was young."

Elarra didn't bat an eyelash at the slight shift in topic, understanding that in his own way he would get out what he wanted to say, though she hid a small smile at the last comment. He was not so far from young now, at only two years her junior she estimated. Most young men his age would likely not speak so freely of fear and uncertainty but she knew very well how grief could overshadow the most basic of emotions, such as pride, and make them less important than they once were.

"The bond allowed my master to offer reassurance when necessary, but…." Obi-Wan searched her eyes and finding only acceptance in their depths was able to reveal something about himself that only a precious few were aware of. "He intuitively knew that I needed something more." Unconsciously, his thumb stroked her skin. Elarra innately sensed that she was being taken into confidence and was touched.

"Our first appearance before the Council to officially petition our partnership as master and apprentice did not go quite as I had imagined. My master had some issues in his past that I was unaware of, and had I known they would not have mattered to me. All I knew was that the Force meant for us to be together. It was simple ...for me."

Elarra knew little of the inner workings of the Jedi and was not really interested in details beyond the young man before her. She asked no questions and was pleased that he didn't feel the need to explain the specifics of his life.

"Some members of the Council were opposed to our request." A small crease touched his brow – evidence of how distressing that thought had been to him. "It got pretty heated at one point and I worried that our petition would be denied, or worse, that the bond we already shared would be dissolved." Lost within the memory, Obi-Wan remained silent for a long time. His voice was softly strained as he continued.

"Just the thought…of that happening…that the Council would deny what felt so clearly to me as the will of the Force…it...it …frightened me." Obi-Wan finished haltingly, but without any embarrassment at the admission.

"How old were you?" Elarra asked in sympathy and curiosity as those multi-hued eyes turned to her.

"Nine," he answered.

"I just remember this growing panic and a spike of fear that I couldn't control." Elarra held his gaze in perfect understanding of his fear, if not the reason behind it. "And then his hands were on my shoulders and I could feel the strength of his presence behind me." For a long moment he was silent.

"He knew, before I did, that I needed a physical anchor to ground myself. That simple touch allowed me to release my fear and to trust in the will of the Force. I knew then that everything would be as it should."

Obi-Wan's grip on her hand took on new meaning and Elarra was grateful that she had followed her instincts and reached out to him. His voice softened. "He always knew what I needed from him, often before I did. I miss that."

Elarra let him retreat to silence, knowing that anything she said would offer no real comfort. Grief continued to cling to him, but the weight of it seemed a little bit lighter than when she had found him. All he had needed was someone to talk to.

"Lady Elarra?" The princess started at the interruption, her eyes going to the servant who had appeared on the stone path. "You have a visitor."

She hid her disappointment that the demands of the day should intrude so soon. She could easily spend the morning in an attempt to distract Obi-Wan from his grief. Elarra noticed that the servant tactfully avoided a glance at their clasped hands. When one of her brows rose in askance, the servant spoke again. "Young Fraedryth wishes an audience."

Clearing her throat, Elarra dismissed the woman back to her duties. "I'll be along in a moment, Iliana."

She turned to Obi-Wan in apology, but he spoke first, lifting her hand.

"One of the first lessons I learned from my master was that my desire for physical contact and reassurance was not a weakness." His pause indicated he may have struggled with that once upon a time. "We all seek comfort in our own way, and for me, it has always been found in touch." Obi-Wan raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a feather light kiss to the back of her fingers and said with sincerity, "Thank you."

Pleased that she had been able to help him in some small way, Elarra felt better about having to leave him. With many small details left to finalize for tonight's celebration she had the sinking feeling that the opportunity for another private discussion between them would be near impossible.

As she rose, Obi-Wan released her hand. "Will I see you this evening?" She asked, not entirely sure if the padawan had planned on attending the gala. Truth be told, she had considered asking Obi-Wan to be her escort. And once again she was thankful that her instincts had served her well. Such a public and social commitment would be near unbearable for him in this stage of his grief.

Obi-Wan nodded and included his master in his answer. "We'll be there."

Smiling, Elarra tossed him a final question. "Save me a dance?"

"Of course," -he said, but she had the feeling that the he was merely being polite again. She could not help but wonder if he had felt the same momentary, yet undeniable connection between them that she had. Reluctantly Elarra left to see her visitor.

**X**

The remainder of the day passed in a quick flurry of events that left little time for introspection. It wasn't until the gala was in full swing that Elarra would lay eyes on Obi-Wan again. He kept to the fringes of the celebration and was often in the company of his master. Yet while Qui-Gon graced the dance floor at various times through the evening, the padawan managed to tactfully elude several hopeful requests. More than once Elarra had attempted to make her way to him. Each time she was swept away by another potential suitor. Sadly, she lost track of Obi-Wan all together just before midnight and had resigned herself to the realization that he'd retired.

Therefore she was pleasantly surprised when, in a rare moment of solitude, she escaped to the terrace to find him gazing over the moonlit garden. A servant on his way back from the garden paused to offer her a glass of wine. She accepted two and deduced by the full tray, that the garden that had earlier been swarming with guests, was once again empty.

Obi-Wan turned as she approached, leaning comfortably against the rail at his back. Smiling, she offered him a long stemmed goblet filled with a pale, fruity wine. He took a small sip as Elarra slipped off her shoes and joined him.

A comfortable silence lingered between them with the muted sound of the orchestra filtering through the windows of the grand hall. There was an ease between them that was a continuation of this morning's discussion, but it was also charged with something else. Neither of them cared to examine it too closely. Both seemed to understand that contemplation as to why it existed at all would only detract from the sense of peace that it was providing.

As the tempo of the music changed and came to an end, Elarra finally spoke. "I thought I'd missed you."

Obi-Wan gave a small, wry smile. "Your dance card was pretty full. I didn't stand a chance."

_I would have happily danced the whole night through with only you._ Instead she said, "I've always preferred to save the best for last." It wasn't meant to be flirtatious, but the sparkle in his eye brought a flush of heat to her face.

Inside, the pace of the music changed to the softer slower melody of a waltz. Obi-Wan took a large swallow of his wine and set the glass aside, next to his cloak that was draped over the banister. Stepping away from the rail he extended a hand with a slight bow. "Shall we?"

Momentarily frozen in surprise by the request, Elarra recovered quickly and took his hand. Thoughts of returning to the hall all but evaporated at the opportunity to share a private dance beneath a sparkling, velvet sky. Obi-Wan led her to the center of the terrace and held his arms in the classic position for a formal waltz. Without hesitation, and pleased that she was able to also surprise him, Elarra instead stepped into the shelter of his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck.

As the length of her body pressed lightly to his, Obi-Wan's only reaction was an initial stiffening that was quickly suppressed. She held his gaze patiently, but with a subtle, twinkling challenge that in the end proved irresistible. One of his hands settled at the small of her back and the other at her waist as the beat of the music lulled them into slow and gentle movement.

As they settled into a soft, swaying rhythm Elarra found herself unable to resist taking advantage of their proximity. Her hands smoothed their way down the firmly defined muscles of his arms and encircled his waist. Without her shoes the princess was a good three inches shorter than her partner. The crook of his neck became the perfect spot to rest her cheekbone as she nestled comfortably against him. The fact that before three days ago she had never laid eyes on him should have allowed for some small measure of awkwardness - but the concept could not have been more foreign at this moment when everything felt so right between them.

Before long, Obi-Wan began to shift as well. His chin settled lightly on the top of her head and his arms circled her in a slow building of pressure that tucked her securely against him. Elarra had the impression that he rarely, if ever, allowed himself such liberties. In fact the very nature of his career likened him to a space gypsy, wandering from place to place with no real way to maintain a long term attachment with anyone other than his master. The thought brought to mind something that he'd said to her earlier that morning. We all seek comfort in our own way, and for me- it has always been found in touch.

She reacted to the memory by giving him a squeeze that forced all the air out of his lungs. Elarra lifted her head long enough to meet his curious gaze with a playful, apologetic smile. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the closeness that she knew would end all too soon. Her musings turned to Qui-Gon, and she wondered if the master was aware of his padawan's needs. In retrospect she recalled all the times when Master Jinn appeared out of nowhere or placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder or ran an affectionate hand through spiky sun-kissed hair, and decided that he was.

Lost in the comforting sensation of being held by a man that she found herself growing more and more attracted to, it took Elarra a moment or two to realize the music had stopped. A little sheepish, she lifted her head once again and met Obi-Wan's gaze. She had expected to see either an embarrassed or indulgent smile at her lapse, but nothing had prepared her for the genuine gratitude that so clearly shone within the changeable depths of his eyes. From the moment she'd met him those eyes had enchanted her. They were beautiful in the light of the sun. In the moonlight - they were absolutely breathtaking.

As in the garden this morning, time seemed to slow and suspend as they gazed at each other. Elarra was very aware of how close their lips were, of how warm his body was against hers, and how rapidly her heart fluttered within her chest. Natural time resumed when the orchestra began to belt out a lively number that forced them to part, albeit reluctantly. The princess was pleased to find his hand already reaching for hers as she interlaced their fingers and smiled.

"Can I show you something?" Elarra asked eyes sparkling.

Obi-Wan paused long enough to retrieve his cloak as they slipped from the terrace and into the beautiful moon-silvered garden below. As they walked Elarra let go of Obi-Wan's hand and took his arm. Despite the lateness of the hour both felt refreshed and revitalized, enchanted by the moonlit beauty of the garden and a closeness that was growing harder to deny.

"When I was eight mother held a grand celebration for father's thirtieth naming day. Not nearly as extravagant as this evening's gala, but it was a big event none-the-less. I remember being very unhappy at being sent to bed at what was presumed a decent hour for a child."

A sideways glance showed a small smile gracing Obi-Wan's features.

"I ran into the garden to find a suitable hiding place until I could sneak back into the party. Apparently, I was more tired than I thought because I awoke just before dawn with mother curled around me and father returning with a coverlet. She knew exactly where I would go."

At this point they had left the - well defined paths of the garden behind and had come to a small brook. Elarra let go of Obi-Wan and hitched up the hem of her gown just enough to skip across a few evenly placed and well positioned stones to the other side. Once there she held out her hand to Obi-Wan and encouraged him to join her.

Undeniably curious, he made it across easily and took her proffered hand. A semblance of a path reappeared and a few more twists and turns found them in a small private glen that one would likely never find unless you knew it to be there. Surrounded by tall Wiporiel trees, the palace and all of its grounds were completely cut off from view. When the padawan met her gaze, Elarra knew that he understood that she was sharing a special place in her heart with him. That he felt both humbled and touched by her trust was obvious. She released his hand and watched as he made his way to the center of the clearing, looking up at the night sky.

**X**

Closing his eyes Obi-Wan inhaled the night air and for the first time in a very long time opened himself to the Living Force.

A torrent of sensations brought him to his knees with a gasp of pure emotion. Only now did he realize just how much he had cut himself off from the healing properties that it had so desperately longed to offer. Obi-Wan let it flow through him, accepting the peace that came with it - feeling the pulse of light in each tiny insect, each blade of grass - the very essence of life that was the Force.

It did not completely wash away the grief that he had been consumed with, but rather placed it in its proper perspective so that it could be dealt with in a more constructive manner. A burden only now realized was eased within him. He could breathe without the stabbing sense of loss that had plagued him since the moment that his bond with Xanatos had ceased to exist. Only now could he take comfort in the ageless adage of There is no death, there is the Force and know that all was as it should be. Xanatos' death, his own life, this moment, all belonged to the will of the Force.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find Elarra clutching a quilt and regarding him with an odd mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Are you alright?"

He smiled with a sense of contentment that he had not felt in a very long time. "I am."

It was clear to her that something had changed within him for the better, though it was obvious that she didn't understand how. Thankfully, she was willing to accept the change without explanation and he found himself admiring her for it. When Obi-Wan's eyes dropped to the blanket, Elarra seemed to remember she was holding it.

"Since the night that Mother, Father and I slept here in the garden, we keep a small stash of supplies available." With that she handed Obi-Wan two bottles of water and spread the large quilted coverlet out before him.

"I feel closest to mother here. I've fallen asleep more times than I can remember with the memory of her arms wrapped around me." Obi-Wan joined her on the blanket, both silent as they contemplated the splash of stars above. The moon, near full, hung low in the sky and cast an ephemeral glow on the normally bright and colorful flowers and made the trees and greenery appear a silver-blue as they swayed in a gentle, whispering breeze.

A sudden and unexpected memory of Xanatos in profile as he meditated beneath the stars flooded his mind. The image filled Obi-Wan with an overwhelming fondness that brought a different, more manageable sadness. He shared his feelings with Elarra and found himself over the course of the evening able to comfortably open up about many other things that he'd never discussed with anyone. She in turn found herself fondly reminiscing events in her childhood that she had not spoken aloud in years. Back and forth their lost loved ones, and the impact they'd had in their lives were discussed in all the glorious minute details that would mean nothing to most anyone else - a private look, a gentle touch, an understanding that could only come from one who had seen both the best and the worst within you and yet offer the unconditional love and acceptance that only a parent could.

The two were so engrossed in each other and their conversation that they were unaware that Dascen and Qui-Gon had arrived in search of their respective younglings. They stood quietly at the edge of the glen awaiting the most opportune time to tactfully interrupt and shoo their charges off to bed.

Several times Elarra felt compelled to reach out physically to Obi-Wan in some way. When a mild wind tossed thick ebony hair into her face, Obi-Wan gave her the opening she was hoping for by reaching to secure the wayward curl behind her ear. His hand lingered. Emboldened, she reached for the silky length of padawan braid just behind his right ear and ran it slowly through her fingers. As their eyes met, Elarra realized the suspended moment of mutual attraction was no longer hers alone. Obi-Wan noticed how the moonlight softened the violet of her eyes to beautiful lavender.

It was uncertain as to who moved first, nor did it really matter as their lips melded in a slow, warm and extremely long exploratory kiss that left their innocent observers startled and temporarily immobile. Master and King quickly recovered and withdrew quietly, Qui-Gon not above using some gratuitous Force use to assure a silent escape in an effort to maintain the youth's privacy. The two adults shared a commiserate moment of helpless understanding and trust in their young charges as they stole back to the palace for what little rest they would find.

Reluctant to part once they'd started, Obi-Wan and Elarra stole breaths of air between a string of kisses that started tentative enough but continued to grow in shared passion with each passing second. When full kiss swollen lips, moist tongues, and fruity wine flavored mouths were thoroughly plundered to satisfaction, the two broke apart breathless, but with no hope of a reprieve.

What had begun as simple physical attraction had evolved into full-fledged desire for all that the pleasures of the flesh had to offer. There was no doubt, discussion or uncertainty in what each wanted from the other. It was clear in their touch and in their eyes that both felt the magic between them blossom and grow into something that neither had ever before shared with another.

It could have been frightening, but it was exhilarating. It could have been awkward, but it felt too right. It could have meant love, eventually, but both were all too aware that no such luxury existed for them. This moment would be all they ever had and each was willing to accept it for what it was. Between them stood the knowledge that in another time or place such an emotion would have been desirable to both. But in this reality, love was an option that would only be painful to explore.

So instead they focused on an emotion that was easier to define though no less demanding. Lust. It was tempered by the slowly formed friendship that had developed over the last few days and the mutual caring and respect that each held for the other, but over the course of the next several hours preceding dawn, lust was given free reign and would leave both with sensual moonlit memories that for a lifetime would hold a special place in their hearts.

Elarra was the first to rise to her feet and turn so that Obi-Wan could undo the clasps at the back of her gown. Smoothing the straps over milky white skin, he planted a kiss between her shoulder blades that caused her to shiver. She slipped out of the shimmering synthsilk gown and smiled as Obi-Wan carefully laid it out next to his cloak so that it wouldn't wrinkle. Such a little thing, but she adored him for it. The princess was left in a sheer slip that was mid-thigh in length and left little to the imagination of the curvaceous figure beneath.

Still fully clothed, Obi-Wan embraced her and Elarra tipped her head back for another tongue swirling kiss as his hand slid up her back and over the nape of her neck and into her hair to loose the binding that held the thick mass of velvet curls captive. She broke the kiss with a shake of her head, enjoying the sensation as silky tendrils cascaded over her back and caressed exposed skin. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to nuzzle her neck and trace the column of her throat with his tongue in a tantalizing combination that caused her to gasp in surprised pleasure.

Anxious to explore his body as well, Elarra found her hands hampered by too much clothing. After her third unsuccessful attempt to loosen his sash Obi-Wan laughed and pulled away to assist her: the two giggling and kissing through the process of removing the layers of his uniform and boots.

Clad only in his leggings, Obi-Wan was a beautiful silver sculpted sight to behold. Elarra ran her hands reverently over the firm muscles of chest and arms, enjoying the dance of muscle beneath her fingertips. Following his earlier lead, Elarra planted a kiss on his collarbone as she lightly raked her nails down the length of his torso. It caused a delicious shiver that inadvertently hinted at a ticklish nature that might be fun to explore...later.

Wrapping an arm tightly about Elarra's waist, Obi-Wan slid gracefully to the ground with the princess straddling his legs. His hands caressed the outside of smooth thighs as lips and tongues met once again in eager exploration. Obi-Wan's thumb stroked the skin high on Elarra's thigh were her thin shift had risen and come to rest. With only the slightest of hesitations the padawan slid his hand under the slip and over the soft curve of hips to settle at her waist.

Elarra broke the kiss to meet his gaze, understanding that they were quickly approaching the point of no return. All it took was one look at the desire in his eyes that was a mirror image to her own. Obi-Wan sensed her consent at the moment it was given. With a smile she lifted her arms and allowed him to remove the garment. As her last barrier of modesty disappeared, Elarra felt the small flutter of nervousness that she hadn't even been aware of, also dissipate. She wanted this.

Watching her carefully, Obi-Wan continued to hold her gaze. Wordlessly they acknowledged the precious gift they were offering to one another and the amazing - if temporary - bond that they shared this night. Wonderful as such knowledge was it soon surrendered to the more urgent needs of the body. Obi-Wan's hand at the small of Elarra's back urged her forward and a small hiss of pleasure escaped them both as their embrace brought them flesh to flesh.

Content to explore the skin at the juncture of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder, Elarra nipped and kissed wherever she could reach as Obi-Wan allowed himself to trace the swell of her breast with his fingertips in a gentle touch that caused her heartbeat to quicken. When the padawan turned his head to give her lips better access, Elarra discovered a highly sensitive spot at the base of his neck. Obi-Wan reacted with a thrust of his hips and a deep-throated moan, hardening beneath her. The sound did amazing things to her body and she responded by latching onto the spot with such intensity that both lost all sense of awareness beyond the other. Breathless and aroused Obi-Wan tightened his hold on Elarra. One second she was in his lap and the next she was beneath him, gasping into his mouth, as new and amazing sensations rippled through her body. Balancing his weight on one arm, Obi-Wan took time to adequately explore the full roundness of her breasts - first with his hands and then with his lips. To show her approval, Elarra arched into each touch with an abandon that would cause her for months afterward to blush at the memory.

Age and inexperience all but assured that such heightened arousal would not be long sustained. Once intimately joined their mutual desire quickly reached a crescendo of bliss that resulted in wave after wave of liquid heat and aftershocks that left them trembling in each others embrace. Knowing the mechanics before hand had done little in the way of preparing the youths for the intense explosion of emotion and tenderness that filled them for each other once the primal needs of their bodies had been met.

For a long time they didn't speak, both afraid they would utter promises that could never be kept. Wise beyond their years, both the padawan and princess knew that what they felt at this moment - however real it was - would fade with time, as it should. Intimacy on this level was a novelty and both took full advantage of the opportunity it provided. Snug and content under the stars they kissed and talked about whatever came to mind. Obi-Wan even managed to surprise himself by opening up about his birth parents and origins - something he had never done with anyone other than Xanatos.

From time to time they slept, spooned beneath Obi-Wan's cloak until one would rouse the other from slumber with a kiss or a touch that would once again spark the heat between them. They made love for the last time just before dawn. It was slow and gentle and filled with the knowledge that their time together had come to an end. In reverent but unregretful silence they dressed and walked back to the palace hand in hand. Throughout the course of the night they had said all that needed to be said. With a final, lingering kiss Obi-Wan left Elarra at the door to her rooms and returned to his.

**X**

A few hours later saw them at the landing platform with Qui-Gon and Dascen. Once the official pleasantries were exchanged, Elarra and Obi-Wan withdrew for a more private conversation. Master and king continued their discussion, but kept a watchful eye on their charges. The youths had been nothing but proper since breakfast, but there was an undeniable familiarity between them that set their guardians on edge. That more than a kiss may have transpired in the lush, starlit glen was only now beginning to sink in.

With a knowing glance at their elders the young couple moved just a little further away. Elarra marveled again how it should be that the interminable silence between them should not be awkward. Surprisingly, the lack of privacy made things easier. Thoughts and emotions that were well concealed would stay that way. Still there were some things that must be said. Reaching out, she took his hand. "I shall never forget you."

"Nor I you." For a long moment they just gazed at each other and Elarra had the feeling that Obi-Wan was memorizing her features. The thought both warmed and saddened her.

"If ever you should have need to return. I will always welcome you."

Obi-Wan smiled but did not respond. Instinctively she knew that he would likely never find cause to return. It cut deep that it would be best for her if he did not, but Elarra acknowledged the truth of it. Already her heart ached for the memory of his arms wrapped around her and the feel of his body next to hers. Her eyes watered in response but she allowed no tears to fall.

Ever observant, Obi-Wan tightened his hold on her hand and she was able to give him a genuine smile of reassurance. Last night was meant to be - anything more was not. Qui-Gon shouldered his travel pack and stood at the boarding ramp, waiting.

Feeling carefree and a little reckless the princess and the padawan shared a mischievous glance before throwing caution and protocol to the wind. Knowing the opportunity would never again present itself, they met in an enthusiastic and probing farewell kiss that left their respective parental units wide eyed in consternation, breaking apart only when King Dascen cleared his throat. Obi-Wan released Elarra's hand as the distance separated them, fingertips caressing in a final fleeting touch.

Joining her father as the Jedi boarded, Elarra ignored for now his searching gaze. She watched as Obi-Wan turned at the entrance to grace her with a final glimpse of shimmering gemstone depths. It was one of many images she would hold dear in the years to come. And then - as suddenly as he had arrived in her life – he was gone.

With a sigh she let Dascen lead her back to the palace with his arm around her. It was obvious that her father was brimming with questions and concerns and she was thankful that he settled on one she could answer.

"You are well, daughter?"

Elarra thought about it for a moment, and then answered truthfully as she gazed up into violet eyes that matched her own.

"I am." The resolute response quelled any further discussion, for now.

It would be months before the princess realized that Obi-Wan had left her with more than just a night full of cherished memories. He had unknowingly blessed her with the only heir to the throne that she would ever bear. A precocious, fair skinned, onyx haired sprite with startling blue-gray eyes that would capture the hearts of all who knew him.

She would marry of course. And eventually Elarra would come to love the man who so clearly adored both her and her son. Fraedryth would raise the boy as his own and never question his true parentage. As for her child, she would give him the only gift of his birth father that she could, his name.

She would call him Ben.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite vignette, though the next one comes close. Had I the time and inclination I would have explored this particular viggie more. I hope you liked Elarra. I did my best to give Obi someone who was worthy of his first time.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An undercover mission reveals some uncharacteristic behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some adult situations and a mention of recreational drug use.

"Are you serious?" Bant asked, turning to Siri.

"What?" Siri responded, legitimately clueless to Bant's ire.

"The Blue Zenith?" Bant gestured to the booming establishment in the distance. "It sounds like a cocktail drink." The senior padawan said, feeling the deep bass of the dance music beneath her feet as they walked towards the club.

Siri gave her one of those _and your point would be_? looks and said, "Come on. Let's just take a look." The other padawan was restrained in her enthusiasm but it was obvious she was dying to check it out.

With a sigh, Bant followed, cursing Obi-Wan and the others for disappearing on her once again. She didn't know what they were up to lately but it was likely no good. Not that Bant minded spending some occasional time with Siri, but she was beginning to miss her boys. For close to three weeks Obi-Wan and Garen along with Bruck and Reeft had been all but MIA after evening meal.

When questioned individually each had an appropriately convincing cover story. Yet in the few occasions she'd managed to corner them all together, it was apparent to her that something was up. Reeft was a terrible liar unless a mission depended on it. He couldn't even maintain eye contact with her. On the other end of the spectrum, Garen could lie so convincingly that it was downright alarming at times. No help there. Obi-Wan fell somewhere in between but managed to look so damn innocent about it that Bant just knew that he was up to something. And Bruck…well, he just managed to look guilty. He did not like lying to her. Okay, so she didn't know for sure if he was lying but she suspected as much. They'd had such a rocky start to their relationship and Bant had make him work so hard to earn her friendship that when things like this inevitably happened and things got too serious, Bruck tended to withdraw from her. This in turn made her feel guilty as he was as dear to her now as her other three best friends.

"Sith." Siri interrupted her musings. "Members only."

Bant was relieved. She had another place in mind that was much more to her liking, but when Siri sighed and actually pouted, she relented.

"You're going to let that stop you?" The challenge in Bant's voice was unmistakable.

After a sharp look and a small pause of consideration, Siri smiled devilishly. "Let's go." She strode toward the guarded entrance with a confident sway to her hips.

It wasn't often that Siri used her golden, slender looks to her advantage, but when she did there were few human males who could resist. Bant couldn't help but roll her eyes at Siri's antics and a few nauseating moments later they were strolling into the club with one night guest passes.

At Siri's smug look Bant said, "You are so lucky they didn't have droids on the doors."

Most of the seating was at the perimeter of the large room where the lighting was soft and low and far enough from the dance floor to engage in conversation without raising ones voice too loud. The circular bar in the center buzzed with customers and an assortment of human and droid barmaids attended to their demands. The dance floor, where most of the action was taking place, was on a raised set of two platforms and was the rhythmic focus of a myriad of strobing and pulsating lights. Beyond the dance floor a small platform held the live band that was currently bringing the house down. The place was bustling, but not so packed that it was difficult to find a table or to mingle comfortably.

Obviously pleased with herself, Siri casually made her way to an opening at the bar. Both padawans were dressed in civilian clothing and Siri had her braid tucked beneath the fall of honey gold hair that hung in loose ringlets to her shoulders. Every so often it would fall forward into her face and she'd toss her head back to get it out of her way. It was a good look for the normally no nonsense padawan that wore little makeup and bothered even less with her hair. It made her look older, more mature and a tad sassy. As if the girl needed help there. Siri's mouth and been getting her in trouble almost as long as Bruck's had. While Bant had dressed for comfort, Siri had gone for a snug mid-thigh, backless black number with two inch heels. The padawan was already attracting some appraising looks from men in their immediate vicinity as her body reacted to the beat of the music.

They ordered drinks, Siri starting with some blue tropical concoction in a long tapered glass and Bant ordering her pleasure straight up. A double. She had no idea how fortuitous that decision would prove to be. This place was so not her style. She preferred a quiet, sedate setting with music more on the blues-y side. But for tonight she would deal, if only for the sake of a friend.

Drinks in hand the pair turned to find a free table. Those along the perimeter looked pretty much taken so they moved toward a small cocktail table at the edge of the dance floor. Caught in the sudden flow of departing dancers as the current song came to an end they paused, waiting for the traffic to clear.

Body swaying to the new slower tempo, Siri brought her drink to her lips just as someone bumped roughly into her from behind causing a good portion of her over priced drink to spill over the rim of her glass and hit the floor with a splat.

"Hey!" Siri raised her voice, irritated. "Why don't you watch where…." Whatever it was she was about to say died on her lips.

Bant turned at Siri's startled exclamation, her eyes going wide and Siri's mouth gaping at the site before them.

"Excuse me, darlin'," A smooth and startlingly familiar voice said just before he actually caught sight of them, the young man's grasp catching Siri's elbow where he had inadvertently bumped her.

Their eyes met and for a heartbeat all three parties froze in recognition and uncertainty. Obi-Wan's eyes widened imperceptibly. To Bant it was a sure fire sign of his surprise and sudden apprehension. Only someone who knew him as well as she did would have noticed it at all.

Never one for tact, Siri tried to cover her shock at both his presence and slightly altered appearance by boldly blurting, "What the hell are you doing here?"

With those words, Bant literally saw a mask slide into place on her friends face. Obi-Wan withdrew his touch and wrapped his arm around the scantily clad twi'lek to his right and pulled the redhead pressed to his left side in closer.

"I'm sorry?" More than a little amused and a cocky grin on his face Obi-Wan asked, "Do I know you?"

If possible Siri's mouth dropped open even further. It was a rare event indeed for the bold and brash blonde to be speechless. Bant's mind was racing a little too quickly for her to fully appreciate it. Obi-Wan's apparently was not. His eyes twinkled mischievously and he gave his agemate a suggestive smirk. A smirk!

That more than anything brought Bant to her senses. While her eyes saw Obi-Wan before her nothing else in his demeanor or appearance held true to what she knew of him. Something was going on. She intervened quickly before Siri could utter another word.

Bant regretfully responded to Obi-Wan's inquiry at her friend's expense, "No, but she'd like to." She placed a calming hand on Siri's forearm as one ginger brow arched in an adorably disarming manner as if shocked at her bold innuendo. The teasing sparkle in Obi-Wan's eyes as he met her gaze was full of laughter. He was enjoying this.

Seconds behind Bant in the realization that all was not as it seemed, Siri snapped her mouth closed, coloring imperceptibly in equal parts anger and embarrassment. She was not used to being caught off guard and was trying desperately to find a way to recover and maintain some semblance of dignity – all while doing her best not to blow whatever operation Obi-Wan had going on. It wasn't easy to do considering she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug little smirk right off his face.

"Well," Obi-Wan said, pulling the two clinging females a tad closer, and ignoring the fiery storm that was building in Siri's eyes. "My hands are a little full at the moment." The redhead draped herself a little more fully around his frame and put her head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. She was looking entirely too possessive as far as Bant was concerned. If Siri had been more herself she would have rolled her eyes and hit him with a snarky comeback. Out of sorts as she was, she remained speechless as Obi-Wan's hand slid from the girl's waist to settle on the curve of her hip in a gentle and sensual reassurance. The twi'lek continued to regard them curiously, but did not react otherwise. It was clear however, that she would not be giving up her spot glued to Obi-Wan's side anytime soon.

"Tell you what, Darlin'," Obi-Wan said in consideration, letting his eyes rake slowly up and down Siri's petite frame and leaving no doubt that he liked what he saw. "I'll save you a dance." It was not a question. The words and the tone in which they were spoken indicating with all confidence that he knew she would be there waiting for him when he deigned to make time for her – and that she should feel special because of it. Matter settled, Obi-Wan maneuvered his small party around them. But before he could be swallowed by the crowd he turned, giving them a final impish look over his shoulder. All Bant could do was shake her head. Undercover mission or not – that boy was having entirely too much fun.

While Mt. Siri was silently seething next to her, Bant spotted a free table and grabbed the girls arm. Once seated, the eruption began. "How dare he?" She started, all righteous indignation. "I am so going to kick his ..."

"You will do no such thing." Bant interrupted matter-of-factly. Placating her friend as best she could, while her eyes continued to scan the bar. "He had to say something before you blew his cover."

Bant suddenly became the focus of Siri's anger. "Yeah, and you were so very helpful by the way with your..." When she realized Bant was ignoring her she look a long swallow of her drink and set it down a bit more forcefully than necessary. Irritated, she blew a spin of gold out of her face and absently tucked the offending curl behind her ear.

Bant was already casing the bar with the eyes of a Jedi rather than a patron when she found what she was looking for. Bruck was at the far end of the bar. He held her gaze, raising his drink the slightest bit to acknowledge her. _Two down, two to go._ She continued her search and in a moment found Garen. He was tucked cozily in a booth with an assortment of male and female cohorts. He held her eyes for a long time, his gaze intense. She was aware that from his vantage point he had been tracking her presence far longer than she has been aware of his. If she hadn't been sure before she was now. Something was definitely going down and her friends were a part of it. When she gave Garen a small nod to let him know his cover was safe, he dipped his chin and smoothly returned to conversation with his companions. Reeft was nowhere to be found but she assumed he was around someplace. Probably involved with either security or surveillance, both of which he excelled at.

Siri meanwhile had finished her drink and was returning from the bar with another. The tight set of her jaw indicated that she was still seething. Sighing, Bant took a sip of her own drink. She'd never met anyone more willing and able to hold a grudge than Siri Tachi. Her relationship with Obi-Wan was volatile on a good day. Given half a chance, Obi-Wan could get along with anyone. That particular trait seemed to grate on Siri more than anything. _No one is that nice_ she had said of the padawan on more than one occasion. If it had been said about anyone other than Obi-Wan, Bant probably would have agreed. Truth be told, Obi-Wan was that nice. That boy was as genuine and plainspoken as anyone she'd ever met. There wasn't a deceitful bone in his body. But he could play the game as good as any of them – as evidenced by his performance tonight.

The two padawans tolerated each other and often managed civility, but any extensive time shared in the same vicinity always resulted in verbal or competitive combat of some sort. It seemed to Bant that Siri often took great pains to deliberately provoke Obi-Wan. It was a source of tension that had almost put an end to Bant's friendship with the girl. She liked Siri and enjoyed spending time with her but Obi-Wan was like a brother. There was no question as to who she would distance herself from. A strong personality, Siri had moments of strife with anyone she came into regular contact with including Bant. It just seemed to be more prevalent with Obi-Wan. Bant had eventually just chalked it up to personality conflict. Not everyone was meant to get along, though as a Jedi, she thought that it should have been easier to overcome. Sharing that thought with Siri had earned her an abrupt absence of the padawan's presence for almost a month. Since that time Siri had made an obvious effort to get along with not just Obi-Wan, but all of her agemates.

"You spot Chun and Muln?" Siri asked quietly, not looking at her.

Bant nodded affirmatively and relaxed back into her seat as she continued to scope the place without looking as if she were doing so.

"What could possibly be going on here?" Siri asked more to herself, distracted as she ran possibilities through her mind.

"Doesn't matter. It's not our business." Bant replied.

Irritated and incredulous, Siri glanced at her sideways. "As if you aren't just as curious."

"Of course I am." Bant admitted. "And when this, whatever it is, is over, I'm going to make sure those boys spill every last juicy detail." Smiling, she took another drink. "But until then…I'm going to enjoy the show." The night was looking so much more promising than she had anticipated.

Sulking, though she'd never admit it, Siri sat back and joined her friend in the covert observation of their undercover classmates. The padawans were both aware that they should probably leave and would likely get a dressing down from their respective masters once the situation became known but the temptation to watch their agemates in action outside of the confines of the Temple was just too strong to resist. As senior padawans all of them had done undercover assignments of some sort. Usually it was away missions under the watchful eye of a master. If more than one team of Jedi were dispatched the pair may team up if the situation called for it but it was a rare instance to be assigned a mission on planet and to also get the chance to work with your best friends.

Bant was envious.

Siri was jealous.

Bant's rebuke of Siri's curiosity did not stop her analytical mind from turning over potential scenarios as to what her four best friends were up to. While Obi-Wan, Bruck and Garen did not avoid each other they did not give the appearance of the close friends she knew them to be either. The close bond they shared as friends would allow for easier communication in any mission but as she quested out with the Force she could sense no link binding them together at all. Had she not been looking at Obi-Wan in that moment she would have missed the quick but panicked look he threw her way. It was all the distraction the redhead that had been curled around him earlier needed. She hooked his jaw firmly and pulled him in for a kiss. He froze before wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss. Bant had to look away as his hands began to slowly roam the supple curves of her body. He gave every indication that his focus was on the warm body pressed against him but Bant knew otherwise. She glanced to Bruck who had come to his feet. A look to Garen confirmed that he too was on alert and regarding her with an intensity that almost made her uncomfortable.

"What the hell was that?" Siri asked, sensing the tension.

"An error in judgment on my part, it seems." Bant conceded. _Won't be doing that again anytime soon._ So, whatever was going on here was Force sensitive. Interesting indeed. Bant did her best to convey regret without reaching through the Force to her agemates to do so. The longtime friends easily read her body language and went seamlessly back to their companions with the exception of Obi-Wan, who still had a lap full of very amorous distraction. Siri voiced her sarcasm low, for Bant's ears only. "You think he's going to come up for air anytime soon?"

"I don't know." Bant said, amused at the irritation she heard in Siri's voice. "He can hold his breath nearly as long as I can." She pointed out.

Disgusted, Siri looked away. "I'm going to get another drink." She rose from the table before thinking to ask, "You want another?"

Bant declined, working her way slowly through her first drink. "No thanks."

By the time the other padawan returned, Bant had a working theory of what was going on. It was slim but all she could come up with on such short notice. "I think I've got it." She said as soon as Siri was seated.

"Really?" Siri didn't hide her surprise or her interest. "Well? Don't keep me in suspense."

"Bait. Whoever they're investigating is Force sensitive and has a taste for young beautiful men" While she knew she didn't have it all figured out, Bant was certain she was on the right track. "They're being used as bait."

Siri considered this and gave a slow nod. It made sense. The three padawans chosen were all as different as night and day in appearance but all were undeniably attractive in their own right. Garen was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with his broad shoulders and thick chocolate colored waves. Bruck was your strong silent type. His fine white hair, flawless skin and deep blue eyes giving him an exotic and mysterious appeal. And Obi-Wan, well there was no denying that he was your classic pretty boy. Bant quirked her lips is a small smirk. Oh, how Obi-Wan hated that term. She had to admit though – it fit. Golden and beautiful in the most masculine sense of the word the boy had the body and face to rival some of the mythical deities she had come across in her study of ancient civilizations.

Bant's gaze settled on the object of her thoughts. Obi-Wan had managed to untangle himself from the redhead and was doing his best to give everyone in his current circle of 'friends' equal attention. At every opportunity he distanced himself from the girl as subtly as possible, but to no avail. The young lady either couldn't take the hint or didn't want to. Bant and Siri shared a glance. _That_ could be a complication.

Obi-Wan no sooner broke from the redhead when another young lady intercepted him. He immediately took her hand as they conversed. It was obvious that they were familiar with each other and Obi-Wan gave her his full attention, smiling and laughing as she spoke. The group surrounding him appeared to be tight knit – all close friends who had easily accepted Obi-Wan into their midst.

A young man nearly Garen's height suddenly put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder and interrupted the conversation by whispering into his ear. The padawan nodded, accepting a small hand held mirror with an assortment of powdered spice arranged in neat lines. Bant and Siri watched in undisguised dismay as their friend took a small straw and casually snorted two rows of the illegal substance. The fact that as a Jedi Obi-Wan could metabolize the drug and not allow it to affect him did little to lessen their shock at what they'd witnessed.

Instead of passing the mirror to his new lady friend, Obi-Wan made a show of wetting the tip of his pinky and pressing it to the powder. He held it before her in invitation and her dark eyes sparkled in approval. Slowly, deliberately he brought it to his mouth, licking it clean – teasing her with his tongue. If she wanted it she would have to come and get it. The young woman stepped forward confidently, molding her body to Obi-Wan's as she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her lips. His hands settled on her hips when it became obvious that her intent was to savor more than just the spice. He didn't seem to mind at all.

They broke apart with matching grins as the band started a new song, apparently a very popular one by the hooting and cheering of the crowd. The spice dealer slapped Obi-Wan on the back with a smile as the lead singer searched the crowd, her voice amplified as she called for her muse with the sexy, smoky voice, hopeful that he was in the crowd. With a rueful smile and confident swagger, Obi-Wan headed for the stage tugging his new friend along behind him. The music had already begun by the time he mounted the platform and joined the band, leaving the girl on the dance floor at his feet.

For the second time that night, Siri Tachi was speechless. Bant was pretty sure the girl was completely unaware that her mouth was gaping yet again. The lighting dimmed, a single soft beam illuminating the leather clad beauty and the gorgeous sprite that had joined her side. Bant smiled when Obi-Wan's smooth, melodic voice reached her ears...the beginnings of a love song by the sounds of it.

He was a natural.

"Did you know he could sing like that?" Siri asked moments later when some of the shock had worn off.

Yes. She did. When they were younger Obi-Wan had written a song for her and sang it to Bant on her tenth naming day. But to see him like this, up on stage - without any of the uncertainty and self consciousness that he had displayed on that day and the few occasions she had heard him since - was magical. She didn't answer Siri, the look on her face said it all.

At that moment Obi-Wan could have been a rock star as easily as a Jedi. The pair of them owned the stage, and every eye in the bar was trained on them. Bant watched as their eyes met and they joined hands singing the words to each other as if they really were lovers separated by the tragic hand of fate. It was a beautiful song. Bant was so enchanted that she missed Bruck's approach. He appeared suddenly before her, blocking her view.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked with a slight bow, holding his hand out to her.

Momentarily surprised, Bant recovered quickly. Her smile widened and she took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. Siri crossed her arms and sat back. Unwillingly, her eyes returned to Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing here?" Bruck asked as they began to dance, his mouth near her ear.

"What are you doing here?" She replied, looking up into his eyes.

He was being cordial but she knew he was exasperated by the situation. Still, he smiled and came back with, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Cute." She said, letting it drop. She knew that he could not give her any information. Bant let her gaze swing to Obi-Wan, making no effort to hide her pleasure at his performance.

"Enjoying the show?" Bruck asked, amused. "Believe it or not he's pretty low key tonight."

The comment brought her gaze back to Bruck. "Really?" As if she weren't already bursting with curiosity about this mission.

"You have no idea." Bruck responded with a long suffering sigh, but offered no details. Bant gave him a long look, one that said that when the time came, he would be spilling all of the details.

Bruck grew serious with his next words. "You know you have to leave right?"

"That's not really a question is it?" She asked, sensing that Bruck was relaying an order from his master.

"No, it's not." He confirmed. "You may have already jeopardized our situation." Bant apologized for her slip earlier. She was bubbling with questions but knew none of them would be answered tonight. As the song came to an end she let Bruck lead her back to the table. He gave a curt nod to Siri as he slipped back into the crowd.

"We're leaving." Bant didn't bother to hide her disappointment as she spoke to Siri, watching as Obi-Wan dropped from the stage to the sound of applause and picked up right where he left off with the dark eyed beauty from earlier. She wrapped her arms around him and tugged him back to the dance floor when he attempted to leave.

Bant's tone indicated the decision was not hers. Siri understood, though she held up her nearly full glass. "Fine. After we finish our drinks." At these prices she was not leaving until she got her money's worth. With a shrug, Bant took her seat. How long could it take?

Bant spotted Garen on the dance floor not far from Obi-Wan. He did not have the unrestrained energy that Obi-Wan did, but he had a groove all his own and seemed to be enjoying the armful of curves currently pasted to him. He did not look at her, but she could tell that Garen felt the weight of her gaze. Bant took a sip of her drink.

When the song ended, Garen kissed his partner's hand and released her. Unlike Obi-Wan's partner, she tossed him a smile and departed. Obi's partner continued to tug on him, this time to pull him off the dance floor. The padawan let himself be pulled along until someone grabbed his other hand. Surprised, Obi-Wan turned to meet Garen's gaze.

Time slowed for Bant as she processed what she was seeing. No words that she could see were spoken between her two friends, but there was a shy flirtatious quality to their interaction. Obi-Wan detached himself from his previous partner with a quick whisper in her ear and as the music began, he stepped into the shelter of Garen's embrace, submitting his lead to the taller man.

Siri choked on her drink.

If Bant had been indulging at that moment, she may have suffered the same consequence. Instincts told her that it was simply a way for the two friends to communicate about the mission without having to access the Force. But her eyes couldn't get beyond how comfortable they seemed in the others arms. It was beyond shocking. And though she was consciously unable to admit it at this moment – the sight of them together was undeniably erotic.

Of their own volition, Bant's eyes sought out Bruck. He met her gaze steadily with a knowing smile. She alone, in their small group of friends, knew of the feelings Bruck once held for Obi-Wan. They had long since been tempered by the genuine friendship that had developed but every once in awhile Bant would catch a look in Bruck's eye as he gazed at Obi-Wan. She suspected that a part of him would always be infatuated with the ginger haired youth.

"I think you're right." Siri said, sucking the last of her drink through the neon straw before adding, "It's time to go."

Still, Siri lingered. She seemed as affected by the site before her as Bant did. It wasn't until the two friends finally broke apart, that the spell was broken. And by then it was too late. They really should have made good their escape before anything got out of hand. It didn't occur to Bant how much trouble her and Siri would be in from their master's for potentially compromising this mission until Obi-Wan began his controlled stalk towards them. She had a bad feeling about this. Without accessing the Force, she sensed both Bruck and Garen suddenly on edge as well.

Her Obi-Wan was modest and confident with fresh, clean cut good looks. This Obi-Wan bordered on arrogant as he boldly approached them with a rolling swagger. Someone had gone to great pains to enhance every bit of natural beauty he possessed. The padawan cut remained, without braid or tail, but the tips were kissed in bronzed gold. Eyes, as blue as the arctic waters of Hoth were subtly lined and smudged with kohl. Thick, dark lashes longer than they had any right to be on a man, framed the jeweled depths.

He wore a sleeveless, sapphire blue, synth-silk shirt with an open collar, the first two buttons undone. It was not tight, but it clung nicely in all the right places, molding perfectly to the lithe muscular body beneath. A matching leather strap adorned his right bicep and snug black leggings disappeared into fine, supple leather boots of the same color.

He was absolutely breathtaking.

Obi-Wan's gaze settled on Sir as he approached. It was brash and assertive, filled with challenge as he stopped before her and held out his hand. He did not speak. He didn't have to. Bant held her breath and somehow sensed that Bruck and Garen were doing the same. This was so not a good idea. She should grab Siri now and get them both out of here. They had stayed too long.

Siri hesitated. Bant's unease increased when Obi-Wan smirked at her knowingly. The blonde padawan's eyes narrowed. Easily read at times, Bant recognized Siri's dilemma. Nothing would please her more than to refuse the cocky padawan in such a public arena, but if there was one thing that Siri Tachi could not resist, it was a challenge. Obi-Wan's eyes all but sparkled with it – daring her to accept.

Bant groaned silently as Siri stood. She looked at the proffered hand and almost refused. Bant plainly saw the determination in the girl's eyes to give as good as she got. She would not let herself be intimidated. She took Obi-Wan's hand, not in submission, but in acceptance of the challenge. His smile bordered on lewd as he began to walk backwards towards the dance floor, his gaze never leaving hers.

The music had changed once again. The tempo was different, neither slow nor fast, but a techno beat somewhere between. It was almost hypnotic, the rhythm pulsing and primal as the bodies on the floor moved their bodies in a cadence that Bant realized with a start simulated an intimate act of an entirely different kind. It was like watching a speeder wreck. She knew she should look away but was unable to do so.

In her heels, Siri was of an equal height to Obi-Wan. When he pulled her roughly to him, she turned at the last minute. He didn't seem to mind, molding himself to her back, his hands settling on her hips as they began to move. Not to be outdone, Siri let her head fall back to his shoulder, joined from shoulder to knee as their bodies began to undulate in time with the music. Obi-Wan's arm wrapped about her slim waist and Siri let her hands slide back to grip the outside of Obi-Wan's thighs, thrusting her hips back.

He spun her suddenly, golden curls tossed about her face as Siri was pulled tight against his chest. Their bodies didn't miss a beat, still perfectly synchronized with the music as they met eye to eye. Bant could only imagine what passed in the intense gaze they leveled upon each other. No words were spoken, the music on the floor too loud to allow it. How long could this song be? It seemed to go on forever. Bant couldn't wait for it to end.

Siri hooked a bared leg around Obi-Wan's calf and he leaned forward supporting her as she arched her back to display her flexibility – the tips of her curls brushing the polished dance floor. His free hand settled on her stomach and slowly smoothed its way up her body and between her breasts. The movement was purposeful. Sensual. Filled with a sexual tension that, if faked, was done so with expertise.

Siri pulled herself upright just as Obi-Wan gripped her tighter. They met face to face again, lips a scant inch or two apart. Bant couldn't make out either of their expressions due to the wild fall of Siri's hair. The music ended and other couples were leaving the floor, the band announcing a short break, but Obi and Siri remained frozen on the floor. Pressed together. Still breathing the same air.

At some unseen signal, Obi-Wan released her and stepped back. Bant saw Siri stiffen as Obi-Wan's gaze slid appreciatively over her body. He gave her a smug, satisfied smile and then turned his back and walked away.

Siri remained frozen in place for a long moment before Bant saw her square her shoulders, and lift her head. When the padawan strolled back to their table, her dignity was once again firmly in place.

"Let's go." The words were filled with restrained emotion - though of what kind Bant could not tell.

Bant met Garen's gaze and then Bruck's as she followed Siri. Both had carefully held masks in place, but she could sense their consternation as well. There would be unpleasant fallout from this - of that there was no doubt. The already volatile relationship between Obi and Siri had just turned explosive.

They paused at the exit, both turning for one final look before leaving. Across the bar Obi-Wan turned and met Siri's gaze. He gave her a final farewell wink before lowering his lips to the willing redhead in his arms.

Bant grabbed Siri's arm and dragged her from the club. She had expected to see anger in her friend's eyes, but was stunned to see something else. The words she spoke were for herself as much as for Siri.

"We need to forget this night ever happened." She knew that for both of them it would be easier said than done.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay – so this was a little different for me. But definitely fun. I hope you enjoyed this OOC behavior for Obi-Wan :) Qui is there, somewhere, behind the scenes.


End file.
